Two's Company
by PirateTurtle4
Summary: It all started when Spock offered to keep him company during shore leave...
1. Chapter 1

_A/N: So, this is my first Star Trek fic and slash. Brought on by seeing the newest movie four times, once at an advanced screening. I watched a lot of reruns of TOS as a kid, but never really thought of Kirk/Spock as an actual pairing, mostly because I was too young to understand. However, now, it's a different story. Obviously, if I'm writing this. Here's hoping it's good. _

Jim's breath fogged on the shuttle port as he peered through it to gaze at Earth. Mindlessly, he drew his index finger through it, drawing loops and whirls until they faded, only to be half glimpsed once more as he exhaled again. With a sigh he turned in his seat and slouched, a frown tugging at his lips.

"Is something troubling you Captain?" Spock's voice at his back jerked him out of his half daze. The Vulcan was a warm presence at his side on the tightly packed shuttle to Starfleet.

"Nothing," Jim answered without looking back. He suddenly had McCoy peering down at him, asking if he felt alright. "I feel fine, Bones. Perfectly fine," he snapped, pushing the doctor's hand away. Bones looked skeptical, "I don't know what you're feeling kid, but fine isn't it."

Jim shot him a glare before glancing up and down the shuttle. Chekov and Sulu were engaged in a nearly tearful good-bye as Chekov would be going to Russia during the two weeks of leave, and Sulu would not. Scotty was furtively sneaking a drink from his flask with a half finished sandwich on his lap, and Uhura was filing her nails and sitting farthest away, nowhere near Spock. Jim blinked, wondering if they'd broken up or something. No matter; he returned his attention to Bones.

"If you really have to know," Jim answered, his voice pitched low, "is that my mom wanted me to visit. She had made all sorts of plans, and now she and my stepdad aren't even going to be there. I'm going to be stuck in the house for two weeks _alone_."

Bones glanced away, feeling sympathy for his friend. He would've liked to help him out, but he too was busy. Everyone was, as far as he knew. He was understandably surprised then, when Spock spoke up.

* * *

"If you have no objection, Captain, I have no plans for during shore leave."

Jim turned in his seat to face him, eyes widening. "You'd come along to keep me company?"

"If it would not be an intrusion," Spock inclined his head.

"Course not." In all honesty, Jim had only intended to cruise the bars of his youth and lay around the house. "But," he paused to think, "I thought you were going to New Vulcan?"

Bones looked over, noticing the way Spock stiffened. "Jim," he warned softly.

"That had been my intent. However, I have received word that I will not be needed to assist in rebuilding our population. I was then going to remain at Starfleet for the extent of leave," the Vulcan answered tightly. Jim's frown deepened, for different reasons. It didn't take a genius to see the reasoning behind the Vulcans' decision; Spock's mixed blood. Maybe he could talk to the other, elder Spock about that. For now, though he was grateful for the company.

* * *

Spock followed Jim as the captain wound his way through the crowds of people. Jim kept up a constant stream of chatter over his shoulder as he dodged elbows and narrowly avoided tripping over feet or bags.

"You didn't have to come along y'know. It's going to be damned boring. Nothing in Iowa but cornfields really. We should've gone to Vegas."

"Las Vegas?" Spock asked, trailing after Jim and taking a seat next to him on the shuttle.

"City of sin," Jim nodded. "I bet it'd be more fun."

"I've have read that what happens there…stays there?"

"That's the rumor. Anything can happen and usually does. Like drunken marriages by someone dressed up like an old Terran musician. I think he was royalty too," Jim added as an afterthought. Spock's angled brows drew together as he looked at Jim. He hadn't heard anything about that, just that Las Vegas was a place of bright lights and gambling and scantily clad people. Seemed like the place his Captain would enjoy.

* * *

"Oh! Spock, hey Spock!" Jim almost tapped Spock's shoulder, remembering at the last second the Vulcan's desire for personal space.

"Yes Captain?"

"It's Jim on leave Spock. Anyway, see that quarry down there?"

Spock leaned slightly over Jim to look out the port. "Yes. What about it?"

"I drove a car into it when I was a kid. A corvette actually, a nice one. It had been my dad's."

The Vulcan stared at Jim in, if he hadn't known better, surprise. "What made you do that?"

Jim chuckled softly. "It was Frank. My step-dad. My brother had just run off, and Frank was thinking of selling the car. But it wasn't his to sell, so I made sure he couldn't." He looked over at Spock, and noticed that his eyes widened imperceptibly. "Let me guess, you're thinking I'm one of the most illogical humans you ever met, right?"

"Your guess is not inaccurate Cap-Jim. Risking your own life simply to ensure that a car would not be sold is highly illogical. What if you had not jumped out in time?"

"I've thought of that since then. For one I wouldn't be sitting here right now, captain of the crew that saved the Federation. But I wasn't thinking at the time."

"Obviously," Spock murmured, turning back in his seat. Jim stared at him. "Are you making fun of me Spock? Ha! I didn't think you had it in you. Anyway, c'mon, looks like we landed."

* * *

Jim's mom, when she found she couldn't be there to pick him up, had left her nearly ancient pickup truck for him to use. The outside was still faded red paint and rusted chrome, but inside the engine had been modified to ensure it ran and ran well, and it had a killer radio set up. Jim was delighted to find he could find any and all songs from centuries past if he wanted. Spock, on the other hand, was less than pleased, though of course restricted showing it to a slight twitch of his left eyebrow.

The Vulcan wondered if it would count as a court marshal worthy offense if he were to render his captain unconscious via a nerve pinch, and also how quickly he could gain control of the vehicle. Whatever Jim was doing could not legally be called singing. In fact, what it could be called was grating on Spock's ears. He was not entirely certain just what a 'disco stick' was, but the sexual connotations were prevalent enough that he could figure it out.

Mercifully, the song ended, and Jim turned the radio down. Were he not Vulcan and in complete control of himself, Spock might have sighed and sagged his shoulders in relief. "Spock, can I ask you a question without you doing that neck pinching thing?"

"That depends entirely on the nature of the question."

"You're not just going to tell me 'yes' are you?"

"That would be lying, and Vulcans do not lie."

Ignoring the urge to point out that Spock was half-human and therefore half capable of lying, or capable of half lies, Jim chose instead to ask his question. "So, did you and Uhura break up? Because I saw she was sitting apart from us on the shuttle and you didn't say anything about going with her on leave."

"Are you going to attempt to pursue her now?" Spock asked, and there was a hard edge to his voice that hadn't been there a second before.

"So was that a yes or a no?" Jim started to laugh, cutting it short when he saw Spock staring at him, looking one step away from strangling him on the dashboard. "No, I'm not going to pursue her. Not that she'd go out with me even if I was. Call it friendly curiosity," he said flippantly, pulling into the driveway of his childhood home.

"Very well. The relationship Nyota and I shared ran its course and came to a logical conclusion. It built to a certain point and progressed not further. Our relationship was more intellectual than anything. She and I had an amicable parting of the ways, and she is now free to choose a companion more suited to her."

"Where's that leave you then?"

"That leaves me here. This is your house?" The Vulcan science officer looked up at the modest, two story farm house. It appeared freshly painted, and the wide, covered porch had obviously just been swept.

"Yeah, this is where I grew up. I'll show you where you'll sleep," Jim pulled the key from his pocket and opened the door. The interior looked just as he remembered it, clean, organized, but filled with homey little touches like his mom's knickknacks tucked into corners or resting on shelves. Hanging on the wall in the kitchen was the antique clock that was shaped like a cat. The tail and eyes swung back and forth in time with the ticking.

"Fascinating," Spock commented, eyeing the clock.

"Mom always loved that clock. It was a gift from me and George one Christmas; we pooled out allowance and bought it for her." Jim unloaded his bags on the steps and kicked off his shoes. "Follow me," he called, padding upstairs and trusting Spock would follow. Indeed, he appeared at his side as he pushed open the door to the guest room. "You can stay here, I'll stay in my old room. This is ok, right?" Jim suddenly sounded uncertain, and was watching Spock worriedly.

"This will be fine Jim," Spock answered quietly, surveying the room. Sunlight filtered through the open window, lighting the gleaming wood floors. The quilt had been turned down on the bed, and hangers hung in the slightly open closet should they be needed.

"Ok, well, I'm gonna go unpack, and then, well, d'you want to maybe go get something for dinner?" Jim asked, giving Spock a lopsided grin. A grin which grew when the other man nodded. "Alright. I'll be right back and then we'll go. I think there's somewhere with a decent salad bar around here…" he trailed off as he went back to his own room.

* * *

There was in fact, a small restaurant which served excellent homemade pizza and had a better than decent salad bar. Both Spock and Jim ate well, the food tasting even better given that all the pair had eaten recently was replicated. "Can't beat brick oven pizza," Jim sighed contentedly, letting them back into the house.

"Indeed, I found the salad to be more than satisfactory. Perhaps we could go there again?"

"It's a date, Spock."

_A/N: so, that's it. I know, it's short and nothing much has happened, but as far as intros go, what's the verdict? I mean, no lie, I deleted or rewrote all or parts of this at least 3 times. And this is the final product that I'm mostly happy with. I promise I'll be building the plot and relationship within the next chapters, if people think I should continue. _


	2. Chapter 2

_A/N: whew. Seriously, can't even tell you how pleased I was to see the nice reviews so soon. If you couldn't tell from the first chapter, I was a little worried about posting. I just couldn't get it right and what I ended up with was ok, but I could've done better. As it was, I had to post or I'd still be tweaking it. But to get the reviews praising and offering advice was nice. Also, I promise I'm gonna work on my writing and formatting more, so it flows better. I think that was part of the problem last time. Anyway, here's chapter two. _

It was illogical. No, more than that, it was completely implausible. And yet, there it was; indisputable proof standing in the kitchen in a t-shirt and jeans as opposed to uniform, with his shirt sleeves rolled up and his feet bare.

James T. Kirk had not only awoken before Spock, but he was in the kitchen, making breakfast of all things. Not just replicated breakfast either, but fresh from the oven, just made bacon and eggs and pancakes. He had his back to Spock as he scrambled the eggs in the pan then tipped them onto a plate. Jim blinked in surprise when he turned and saw his first officer standing on the stairs, observing him. Spock noted that Jim's shirt read, of all things, "Breakfast Not Included".

"Morning Spock! I, uh, I made breakfast. Um, yeah, I found some fruit and stuff in the fridge. Do you like watermelon, grapes, things like that?" Jim untied his mom's red and white gingham apron from around his waist and tossed it on the counter.

"That will do fine Jim. Thank you," Spock finally took the last few steps and sat down at the small, scrubbed wooden table. Jim nodded, almost to himself more than to Spock and picked up the two plates, setting the one piled high with chunks of melon, grapes and orange slices in front of the Vulcan with a set of utensils.

"You want anything to drink?" he asked from the fridge. There's juice…apple juice apparently." He looked over to see Spock incline his head, indicating, despite having a mouthful of food, that juice would be fine. Jim grinned at him and poured him a glass of juice, while he made himself chocolate milk. He'd had it programmed into the replicators aboard the Enterprise, but there was just nothing like making it yourself. Not to mention, he could sneak licks of the chocolate syrup if he wanted, which he did very much.

* * *

"Captain, if you continue drinking the chocolate syrup like that, you will not have any to mix into your milk."

Jim turned his gaze up to Spock's, unaware that he had thick syrup trailing sluggishly from the corner of his lips. Spock arched his eyebrow, wondering how the other man even managed to dress himself, let alone captain a star ship.

"Didn't I tell you it was Jim while we're on leave? I'm not being a captain here." Jim seemed to realize that he had chocolate on his face and was trying in vain to lick it off.

"It is your house, correct?"

"Yeah," Jim gave up and just grabbed a napkin to wipe his face.

"And I am your guest here?"

"Spock, would you just make your point?"Jim proceeded to stir his chocolate milk until the syrup had blended in.

"Does that not make you in effect, the captain here? It is your house and you are allowing me to stay. That would put you in charge," Spock answered, spearing a grape on his fork and biting it.

"Fine, you've made your point, and it's a good point, but really? We're on leave, we're supposed to be having fun, relaxing, y'know, vacation type things. We're friends here, not colleagues and that means I'm Jim to you."

"Very well Jim," Spock answered, managing to sound as though he was humoring the other man without changing his tone. "May I ask a question?"

Jim nodded while slurping down half his chocolate milk through a straw.

"Why does your shirt read 'breakfast not included' when you did just make breakfast?"

"Oh. Well, you know…" Jim trailed off, smirking meaningfully.

"No, I do not know."

"For one night stands. Sometimes, they want breakfast in the morning, and I'm telling them straight off that they won't get it with this shirt. It's meant to be funny," he answered as though it was the most obvious thing. He looked down at his shirt. _He_ thought it was funny.

"I see," the science officer looked pensively at his now empty plate. "And yet I just received breakfast, did I not?"

Jim choked on the slice of bacon he had just been gnawing on. "Jesus Spock. Look, you understand what a one night stand is, right?" He looked up at the other man, who was watching him with a touch of what might have been concern. Jim cleared his throat and took another drink, waiting for him to answer.

"I have knowledge of the practice, but no actual firsthand experience."

_Well thank god for that_, Jim thought. He could only imagine what trying to explain that would be like. No doubt the Vulcan would find it illogical. Or maybe he'd find it logical; the whole trying to build the population aspect was sure to make sense to him, even if most other people only saw it as a way for quick sex with no strings attached. At least, there weren't supposed to be. Jim could attest to that, that there were instances where occasionally the partner got it in their head that there was more to it than there was.

"Listen, just go with me that it's supposed to be funny and leave it at that." The last thing he needed was for the ever inquisitive Vulcan to try and decipher the nuances and meanings in his shirts. "Anyway, speaking of clothes, is that all you brought? Stuff manufactured by Starfleet?" Jim nodded towards Spock's crisp black shirt and pants, which had an air of formality about them, while he gathered the dirty dishes and placed them in the sink.

Spock gave a slight nod, failing to see the issue. Jim sighed before jogging upstairs to his room. To him, there was just no way Spock could enjoy shore leave when he was looking all uptight and proper in his Starfleet issued clothes. So, he rifled through his clothes and found a plain shirt and some jeans and just had to hope they fit.

"Here, try these on," he said, tossing the bundle of clothes to Spock, who merely looked at him before going back upstairs.

"I do not understand why I had to change," Spock murmured as he came back to the kitchen. He pulled at the hem of the shirt, which was slightly too big through the shoulders on him. "I was comfortable in what I'd been wearing."

"But if you get these dirty or ripped, it's no big deal," Jim answered, reminding himself that he had to clean up the kitchen. But later; right now, he was amusing himself by watching Spock try to get used to the new clothes. "And there's a pretty good chance they'll get ripped or stained, seeing as I'm going to show you around the barn today. C'mon." He went out the screen door, and held it for Spock.

* * *

"See, when I was just going to be me here for two weeks, I knew what I was going to do. I was going to be lazy, maybe go out and cruise the bars, that's it. Now that you decided to tag along, I've gotta play host," Jim continued heading towards the big, faded red barn.

"Not that I'm not grateful for company, I mean, I'd have probably gone a little stir crazy and started talking to myself by the end of the week. I'm just not sure how to be entertaining with company. So, I figured showing you around could work, right?"

"That seems logical," Spock agreed. He stood next to Jim in the entrance to the barn, surveying the large, open space. The floor was covered in hay, loose piles of it or neatly tied bales stacked against the wall. The rafters loomed above, with a wooden ladder reaching up and a rope hanging from a beam with a knot tied into it. Sunlight filtered through an opening in the roof, showing dust motes floating in the air. Three horses whinnied softly in their stalls, and a large yellow tabby cat slunk out of the shadows to inspect them. She meowed and rubbed against Spock's leg.

"Hey there," Jim crouched down, holding his hand for the cat to sniff. "You must be the barn cat mom told me about." The cat nuzzled his hand, purring loudly.

"Barn cat?"

"For catching mice," Jim answered. "Mom told me her name's Pancake. I guess she has a thing for licking pancake batter out of the bowl when mom makes them." Pancake arched her back and nuzzled against Spock, meowing plaintively. "She likes you," Jim grinned. "She wants you to pick her up."

Carefully, Spock lifted the cat, who settled into his arms like she belonged there, a feline grin on her face. She flicked her tail and purred even louder. Jim chuckled, scratching the cat under the chin. "Y'know, it's probably because your body temperature is higher than a humans. I bet to her, snuggling up to you is like a spot by the fireplace." He looked up to see Spock gazing down at the cat, and he swore he saw the corners of the Vulcan's lips twitch just slightly. "You have any pets when you were a kid?"

Spock glanced up to meet Jim's gaze. "I did have a sehlat, a creature native to Vulcan. It was similar in appearance to an Earth teddy bear, only it was alive and in possession of a set of fangs." He returned his attention to the cat who was grooming herself, licking her paw and rubbing it over her ear.

"Ooohhhkaaay…teddy bear with fangs. Right." Jim turned away, craning his neck up to look at the rafters. There had been a game he and his brother had played when they weren't helping Frank; all he had to do was hope the rope was still strong enough.

* * *

Spock's eyebrow neared his hairline as he watched Jim start to climb the ladder, which creaked in protest. "Jim, what are you doing?"

"Me and George used to do this, hang on." Jim reached the top of the ladder and crawled out onto the beam. He looked down to see Spock standing on the edge of a big, deep pile of hay. He wasn't sure, but he thought Spock looked worried. "Watch this," he yelled.

"If only to ensure you do not kill yourself."

Laughing, Jim pulled up the rope and held it at the base of the knot. With a deep breath he slid down and swung free, kicking his legs to propel himself. He saw Spock following his progress, and laughed again. His arms were straining, but it felt so good to put them to this kind of exercise once more. He bent back and pushed himself forward. He couldn't wait to land and show off, to show Spock he was perfectly fine. Maybe he could talk him into it.

The rope jerked in his hands, and let out a horrible creaking groan. Jim barely had time to think _Oh shit_ when the rope unraveled and broke and sent him falling very fast down to the hay. Dust and straws of hay flew into the air as Jim struggled to dig himself free. Over his sneezing, he heard a faint sound, quickly stifled but unmistakable.

* * *

"Spock, did you just laugh at me?" Jim cleared hay from his face and saw the Vulcan's eyes twinkling with suppressed laughter and his lips were definitely turning up. "You did!"

"I apologize Jim. However, it has been my experience that when one's friend insists on making, as Doctor McCoy would say, and ass of himself, it is only logical to express humor at one's friend, provided of course they are unharmed. You are unharmed, correct?"

"Just a little bruised, some hay up my nose, nothing…" Jim stopped, shaking. He let out a yelp and frantically reached behind him. A mouse was dangling from his fingers when he pulled it out of the back of his shirt. "Ew!" he flung it across the barn, and Pancake leapt from Spock's arms to give chase. "Other than that, yeah, I'm unharmed." He saw Spock rubbing the back of his hand, and noticed bloody trails there from the cat when she'd gone after the mouse.

"You ok?" Jim got to his feet and went over to him. Green blood was starting to drip down his hand steadily. "Do you mind?" Jim asked, his hand hovering over Spock's arm. He knew the Vulcan was big into personal space and he didn't want to intrude. Spock nodded and offered his arm stiffly. Jim held his hand up and examined the scratch. "Doesn't look too bad, but we should still bandage it." Jim tugged on Spock's elbow and led him back to the house.

* * *

"Sit," Jim motioned to the closed toilet lid and Spock did as asked. Jim pulled open the cabinet, digging for a bandage and some antiseptic cream. "Hold out your hand," he said, and started to clean off the drying blood. Spock stiffened in his seat, keeping his gaze averted. He swallowed thickly as Jim dried his hand and spread a bandage over the scratches, smoothing it over the skin.

"There, that should do it," Jim threw away the blood stained cloth and glanced down at Spock. "What's wrong now?" he asked, taking in the faint green blush on Spock's cheekbones and the tips of his ears.

"A Vulcan's hands are," Spock cleared his throat, "very sensitive. I should have mentioned it."

"Uh-huh. So, you're saying you liked that?" Jim leaned against the sink, smirking.

"Thank you for bandaging the scratch Jim." Spock stood and sidestepped out of the bathroom.

"Yeah, sure. No problem," Jim answered absently, watching Spock's retreating form. He snickered; the tips of those pointed ears were still bright green. It was almost endearing, though he'd never say so out loud. If Bones ever heard him…he could only imagine the look on the doctor's face. He already had almost had an aneurism when Jim had told him that some of the younger female cadets often discussed, in hushed giggling tones, the attractiveness of himself, Spock, Bones, Chekov, Sulu, and there was one who had a real thing for Scotty. Shaking his head at himself, Jim strolled out of the bathroom and into the living room.

* * *

"Hey, hey, no. Out of the chair," he ordered, standing with hands on his hips. Spock looked back at him from the old leather arm chair. "That's my chair."

"I do not believe I see your name on it," Spock answered coolly.

"Oh yeah? Up," Jim ushered him from the chair and pulled the lever that lifted the footrest. He slid on his back underneath it. "Come here," he waved his hand for Spock to follow. After much shifting and sliding and cursing from Jim, they were underneath the footrest.

"Look right there," he pointed to one of the small wooden beams holding the frame together. Carved in childish script were the words 'James Tiberius Kirk'.

"My apologies Jim. Although, how was I to know your name was on the chair? It is not a common practice for me to crawl under the seats of my hosts to determine if the seat is their preferred one." Spock scooted out from under the chair and watched on as Jim attempted to do the same.

"You're supposed to be the genius. You should've known I'd carve my name into a chair," Jim answered back teasingly. He managed to get to his feet and sprawl in his chair, flinging his legs over one of the arms. "What do you want to do now?"

"I brought my three dimensional chess set. You did express an interest in playing?" Spock asked, taking a step toward the stairs.

"I did. Bring it out; I'll play 'til dinner." Jim got up and set up a small table between the chair and the couch while Spock retrieved his chess set. He laid out the board and the pieces and took a seat against the arm of the couch, his legs folded neatly under him. He was surprised to find Jim was not a novice player, and that he in fact seemed to be able to see moves that appeared at first glance to be random but were far from it. Out of the five games they played until Jim decided it was time for dinner, he won two.

"I am impressed Jim. I did not know you played chess," Spock put the board away and helped in putting plates and silverware on the table.

"Yeah, well, besides being the darling of Starfleet, I've been told I'm a genius level delinquent. I like chess, even if I don't have much time for it." Jim served up pasta with alfredo sauce. In Spock's he added broccoli and to his own, chunks of cooked chicken and set the bowls on the table. "Though, now I've got a worthy adversary, maybe I'll take up playing again," he flashed Spock a grin over his shoulder.

"I would enjoy playing chess in the evenings while we are here. As you said yesterday, it is a date."

_A/N: so, a little longer this time. I think it's good now. I'm really trying here to sort of build the relationship, instead of just diving into the smut. And there will be some smut. I mean…come on, right? Oh, and just a little fun fact, I actually have a cat named Waffle who's a __**big**__ orange tabby, so I thought I'd pay homage to him with Pancake. And I've fallen onto the Spock with a cat bandwagon^^_


	3. Chapter 3

_A/N: so, this would've been up sooner, except for one, I wanted to finish a few other fics I was working on so I could have more time to do this one. And two, my dad has this thing against me staying up late on my laptop even though it's summer vacation and I'm 18. So he does everything he can to prevent me from doing so. But whatever. Anyways, enjoy chapter three here._

_P.S. I don't think I've got to clarify that I don't own anything but the plot, right? Hope not._

Jim nudged the bathroom door open with his shoulder, his arms full of his damn towel, his shirt, and a small portable radio. Steam escaped through the open door, and he was blasted by the heat.

"Jesus Spock how hot do you have that water?"

In the shower, Spock almost, _almost_ let a sigh slip past his lips. Obviously, where Jim was concerned, there was no such thing as privacy.

"Jim, I am still in here."

"Yeah, I know. Don't worry about it; I just wanna finish getting myself ready. I'll be out before you know it." Jim answered, hanging his towel on the hook on the back of the door. He shot a look at the shower, not seeing what the big deal was. The shower curtain was dark blue in color, so it wasn't like anyone could see through it. He shook his head and turned back to flipping on his radio.

At once, music started to play loudly, guitar at first, and then the singer. Yet another of the 21st century bands Jim had a penchant for. He started to sing along.

* * *

"I saw you sliding out the bar/I saw you slipping out the back door baby/Don't even try and find a line this time it's fine/Darling you're still divine…"

Spock stuck his head out of the shower, curiosity overcoming his desire for privacy.

"What are you listening to?"

"It's a song by OK GO. It's called 'You're so damn hot,'" Jim said, and glanced over at Spock. He started to laugh, until Spock asked what was so funny.

"Your hair's all stuck up and full of pink suds. Did you use my mom's fruity shampoo?"

"I was unaware that it was hers. What should I have used?"

"Mine, in the black bottle. It's more macho," Jim smirked and shrugged into his t-shirt which boldly proclaimed he was 'Cougar Bait'. He heard Spock flip open the cap of his shampoo. He must've sniffed it and didn't like it, because the next minute he was sticking his head out of the shower and raising an eyebrow at Jim, who was flexing at the mirror.

"I would rather use the so called 'fruity' shampoo, if it is all the same. Its scent is far more pleasant. Now, are you finished posing in what I am sure you believe to be a seductive manner?"

"Why, am I distracting you?" Jim grinned at him.

"Not in the least. I do however, wish to get dressed."

"Oh. Ok, sure." Jim gathered up his radio and the hair brush and shut the door behind him. Pancake the cat was curled up outside the door, waiting apparently for Spock. She looked up at him and meowed, pleading to be let in. "Alright, since you asked nicely," he told her, and cracked open the door. He caught a glimpse in the mirror of Spock wrapped in a towel with a smaller one drying his hair while she slipped in, before he pulled the door shut.

* * *

He traipsed downstairs, wandering about the living room. He stopped by the small table at the end of the couch which held a few pictures in frames. There was one of him and his brother, with identical mops of blonde hair, grinning in front of the corvette. He had a missing tooth in the picture. There was another of his mother and father's wedding, and a new one, of him in his Starfleet uniform, having just gotten the medal for original thinking in regards to the Kobayashi Maru.

Spock was suddenly looking over his shoulder at the pictures, and Jim _didn't_ jump, honest. He did turn around a bit to face him, and he must've been closer than he thought because Pancake hissed at him for almost squishing her. Jim stepped back, looking at Vulcan and feline together, the former arching his eyebrow at the display, the latter wearing what could only be described as a smug grin as she was scratched behind the ears.

"I think you've got an admirer," he said, hesitantly petting Pancake.

"So it would seem. Not only did she greet me in the bathroom, she was asleep at the foot of my bed when I awoke. Though I do not know why she is so attached to me." Spock gently let her down, where she padded off to the kitchen for food.

"Cats are like that," Jim said, going into the kitchen himself. "It's one of life's great mysteries why they do what they do. The shirt looks good by the way."

The science officer looked down at himself, failing to see the appeal of a shirt that read "You bring out the worst in me…I like that". At least it fit well, as did the jeans, though he was beginning to suspect it was no longer out of a need to dress appropriately for leave and more because Jim found amusement in dressing him in such clothes.

"Thank you," he answered finally. "Though I do not understand your shirt."

"Ah. See, cougar is a slang word for an older female who dates younger men."

"I see. And you are bait for these females?"

"Spock, what have I told you about seeking out the nuances of clothes? Now, you want breakfast?"

A half hour later and Jim was serving up stacks of waffles swimming in butter and syrup. He had explained to Spock that his mom, when she was home, preferred making food herself as opposed to replicating it. That was why they had a stove and refrigerator and other such things for storing or preparing food.

"So, what d'you want to do today?" Jim asked, setting the plates in the sink to clean later. "I showed you the barn yesterday. How about going into town, or the park?" Spock informed him that going to the park would be a fine way to spend the day.

* * *

"I sort of wish I hadn't given my bike away before I enlisted in Starfleet," Jim said conversationally. "We could get there faster, plus I trusted my bike more than I trust this truck. But, I doubt you would have liked it."

"Why is that?" Spock asked as he got into the passenger seat.

"Well, because you'd have to ride behind me. Up close and personal, as in I'd be invading your personal bubble," Jim twisted the key in the ignition, willing the old engine to fire. He glanced over at Spock, who appeared to be mulling that over.

"Were it our only method of transportation, I would concede to having my 'personal bubble' invaded by you."

"Good to know then, that I have your permission, should the need arise."

Jim turned out of the driveway and onto the main road. The land was flat on either side, with nothing to look at but rocks and dirt. Fairly soon though, it gave way to houses and stores and municipal buildings. Jim pointed out the police station, which he felt sure should have a wing with his name on it. Spock listened to him as he indicated various locations where he had gotten into mischief, occasionally asking a question or adding some comment.

* * *

"And here's the park. I carved my initials on one of these trees once, with the initials of my then girlfriend. I didn't find out until later that she was using me to get back at her ex-boyfriend; who just happened to beat me up later for being with his girl." Jim slid from the truck and stretched.

"It was not your fault, so why did he attack you?" Spock asked, following him to sit under a tall, shady tree.

"I don't know. It was…highly illogical," Jim snickered, and though Spock's eyebrow rose, he swore he saw the Vulcan's lips turn up just a little. He leaned back against the tree, not caring about the bits of bark that dropped into his hair. "It's just the way bullies are, I guess," he muttered.

"My mother often told me it stemmed from insecurity or jealousy. As a child though, I found it hard to believe that they were jealous," Spock added quietly.

"You had bully trouble when you were a kid?" Jim turned to face him, surprise evident in his expression.

"Yes," the Vulcan said, and for a moment Jim thought that would be it. But Spock continued, keeping his gaze on the grass in front of him. "Numerous times they attempted to elicit an emotional response from me, both verbally and physically. It was not until they insulted my mother that they received one, though I am certain it was not the one they wanted."

"What did you do?" Jim asked, remembering the time Spock had nearly choked him to death. Surely kid Spock hadn't done the same thing?

* * *

It may have been a trick of the light, but he was pretty sure that faint green blush was creeping up Spock's cheeks once again. "I threw myself at him, sending the both of us into the learning bowl. Where I proceeded to punch every inch of him I could reach. I was only eleven at the time, but proficient in self defense, and the only injury I sustained was a split lip."

By the time he finished, Jim was doubled over with laughter. "That is awesome. Even as a little kid you were a bad ass who could kick the shit out of anyone. I wish _I_ was that lucky when I was bullied. I got my ass handed to me more times than I could count. I mean, not that I didn't try and fight back, but have you ever noticed that most bullies are usually at least twice your size? Not very fair."

"And yet when I nearly choked you to death, there was not that much difference in our heights."

"Again, not very fair. You're what, three times stronger than me?"

"You are the one who thought it would be wise to provoke a Vulcan," Spock pointed out. Jim scowled at him and stood up, brushing bark off the back of his pants. He looked across the park, seeing two empty swings at the swing set.

"You want to come swing with me?"

Spock looked at him, eyebrow rising in a way that conveyed "You cannot be serious" more clear than if he'd spoken aloud.

"Aw come on. It'll be fun!" Jim urged. His first officer however, was not getting up, leaving Jim to huff and go swing by himself. The three little kids, none of whom could be over the age of ten, gazed at him in that blatant way children had.

"Is this swing taken?" They shook their heads, and watched him heave himself onto the seat. His legs were a bit too long, and dragged if he wasn't careful, but he was determined to have fun, if only to prove to Spock that he was. Although, the kids watching him was starting to creep him out.

* * *

Finally, it seemed they plucked up the courage to say something. The little boy stepped up, and Jim slowed down to listen. "Are you Jim Kirk?"

"I am," Jim nodded, grinning.

"Ha! Told you so Addy!" the boy crowed triumphantly. He beamed up a Jim. "I heard about you. You're captain of the Enterprise and you took on Romulans."

"Did you really?" one of the little girls, who were twins, asked.

"Of course he did Aimi," the boy shook his head at the very notion that he hadn't.

"Shut up Baxter," Addy snapped.

Jim, feeling an argument coming, interrupted. "You know, I didn't do it all on my own. I had some help. You see that guy sitting by the tree," he pointed at Spock. They looked over and then back at him, nodding. "That's Mister Spock. My first officer and a good friend. He helped me a lot."

"Oooh! Is he a Vulcan?" Aimi asked, standing on tiptoe to see.

"Duh! Can't you see the pointy ears?" Baxter rolled his eyes at Jim as if to say _girls_. Jim snorted, starting to get an idea. He looked around the park, and yes, it was still there. Perfect.

"Hey, listen up. Mister Spock is being a grouch, and won't come on the swing. If you three can get him to come play, I'll buy you each an ice cream from over there," he pointed to the ice cream shop across the park. The kids looked at Spock, and back at him, their grins positively devious. Jim almost felt bad for what he was unleashing on the poor, unsuspecting Vulcan, but then he thought of how funny it would be and he felt better.

The children scampered off, making a beeline for Spock. He could hear them pleading in high pitched voices for him to come and go on the seesaw with them or to push them on the swing. The twins attached themselves to his legs when he stood in an attempt to escape, while the boy ran around, trying to herd him to the playground.

* * *

"I assume I have you to thank for this," Spock trudged over, dragging the kids along. Jim laughed and nodded.

"Ok kids, you play with Mister Spock and I'll get the ice cream." Jim got off the swing and left Spock to the mercy of the children who were delighted with their new play mate. He bought three cones of chocolate with sprinkles for them, a double scoop of rocky road for himself, and a double scoop of vanilla with rainbow sprinkle for Spock. He vaguely recalled Bones mentioning something about Vulcans and chocolate, but not the details so he decided it better to not chance it.

Spock didn't even try to cover his glare when Jim returned. He was stuck on one end of the seesaw with all three kids on the other side. Jim was pretty sure that were there not children present he'd be on the business end of a Vulcan nerve pinch, and that the fact that they were children was the only thing saving Aimi, Addy and Baxter as well.

"Oh quit trying to scare me with your Vulcan death glare and take your ice cream," he passed the dripping cone to him and passed the kids theirs as well. He went and sat at the other end of the seesaw while the little ones sprawled on the grass, getting sticky and covered in ice cream. Baxter thanked Jim for the ice cream and informed him that they had to go home, but it had been fun and maybe they could play with Mister Spock again? The twins nodded, smiling bashfully at Spock, before waving and following Baxter.

Jim finished his ice cream, looking at Spock through his lashes. Spock was focused solely on his own snack, trying not to let it drip on him. "So…did you have fun? I never knew you had such a way with kids Spock." The other man didn't answer. "Oh so you're not talking to me now? Fine, I'm not talking to you either," Jim answered, crossing his arms.

* * *

The silence lasted longer than Spock anticipated, until they were in the truck. At that point Jim turned worriedly to face him. "We're still going to play chess tonight, right?"

"Yes Jim, we will still play chess tonight."

"Ok good," Jim responded. "And, it wasn't that bad, was it?"

"The children themselves were not an issue. It was merely that using them to get what you wanted constitutes as what I believe is called a 'low blow'. The children were quite interested in life aboard the Enterprise interestingly enough."

"The twins liked you," Jim said confidently. "I think it's the ears."

Spock stared at him, and unsurprisingly his eyebrow arched.

"Or maybe the eyebrow. Yeah, definitely the eyebrow. That's it."

"Jim, I would appreciate it if paid more attention to driving and less attention to making fun of me."

"Who said anything about making fun? But, alright, I suppose I can pay attention to driving, just this once and since it's you Spock." Jim chuckled to himself, well aware that Spock was watching him curiously.

His grin widened, not even fading when Spock destroyed him during their nightly chess game after dinner.

_A/N: I'd put that whole obligatory pleading for reviews here, but I don't think I need to. Seriously, I'm all emotionally compromised (in a good way) by all the super awesome reviews. Thanks ___

_Oh, and on another note, the other night, I was having the star trek promotional Eggo waffles for dinner, and I got one with Kirk and Spock on it. And my mom just sort of looked over and was like "oh, the bromancers." I laughed quite a bit at that, thinking "mom if you only knew." Ok, I'm done with my random little anecdote. Thanks again for reviewing_.


	4. Chapter 4

_A/N: I honestly don't know what to say here. Umm…oh, how about how I'm really getting the relationship going in this chapter. I'm talking lots of cute, fluffy, goodness, and actually starting to earn the 'M' rating. No, not full blown delicious captain on first officer smut, but I'm working up to it. Whoooo! Yeah. Ok, I'm gonna type the actual chapter now. _

Jim suspected foul play on nature's part.

He had specifically made plans to take Spock swimming on Saturday, and when he woke that morning, it was pouring, complete with thunder and lightning.

Mother Nature clearly did not want him to enjoy a day of swimming with his first officer, which would include the novelty of seeing him the just a bathing suit, the least amount of clothing he'd probably ever worn. He was sure it was something to behold, but no, Mother Nature _just_ _had_ to rain on his parade, literally.

So it was that he did the next best thing. This of course was herding Spock into the living room and gathering up all the horror movies from the Kirk family movie collection. It had everything from creature features to B-movies to slasher flicks to psychological thrillers, from the 1980s and onward. They were antiques and treated as such; Jim placed them almost reverently in the player when it came time to switch it up.

* * *

Spock divided his attention between the book he was reading, the movie playing, and the kernels of pop corn Jim was tossing up and catching in his mouth from where he lay on the floor. The bowl of pop corn was next to him, and he was leaning his head on Spock's shins, which he had propped a pillow against. Surprisingly, the Vulcan hadn't protested, merely raised his eyebrow and accepted it as another of the captain's quirks.

Jim flicked another kernel into the air, opening his mouth for it. Only it never came. Instead, he heard the faint sound of someone chewing. He tilted back his head just enough to see Spock, still not looking up from his book, but swallowing the pop corn.

"If you wanted some, you could've just asked."

"Yes, I could have. It was simply easier to catch it myself."

Jim shook his head, returning his attention to the movies. They got steadily more unnerving as the evening went on, very suspenseful and at times unnecessarily gory. Jim flinched more than he would care to admit, and had to stifle a few (very manly) squeaks. But for god's sake, there were spiders pouring from the sink, there were monster things in the mist, and that one guy was making himself a suit out of ladies' skin! And there were so many damned zombies and a pissed off, big ass shark. No one, not even James Tiberius Kirk, could sit there indifferently.

Except, of course Spock, who looked about as bored as a Vulcan could look.

* * *

"Why are you watching these movies if they frighten you?"

"I'm not frightened!" Jim protested. "They just surprise me, there's a difference."

Lightning cracked above, and the lights went out in the house.

Jim yelped and dumped the pop corn.

"That was the cat," he laughed nervously.

"Jim, Pancake has sat beside me the entire evening, and has not so much as opened her eyes. Are you planning on releasing my legs soon? I am losing circulation in them."

Jim realized with a start that when the room had gone dark, he'd instinctively grabbed onto the nearest thing, which just happened to be Spock's legs. He pulled his arms away, muttering an apology. He got to his feet, and tried to go into the kitchen. Unsurprisingly, he banged his legs on the table and almost fell.

* * *

"I would advise against attempting to move while you cannot see," Spock commented.

"Really?" Jim growled. "Well for your information, I'm trying to find a flashlight so we can see. And then we can find the old fuse box to make the lights go back on. Which I think is in the basement."

"You have no idea what you are talking about, do you?"

"It may have been a while since I've been home, but I think I know my own house Spock." Jim made it successfully to the kitchen and started rifling through the drawers.

"Are there not knives in some of those drawers?" Spock asked, still sitting on the couch. Jim jerked his hand out, cursing. "Never mind. Do you require a bandage?"

"No…but I found the flashlight finally." A narrow beam abruptly illuminated Jim's face as he held it under his chin. He was sucking on his finger, which he had pricked on a knife. He walked back into the living room, and gestured for Spock to follow. Spock merely sat there, staring at him.

"C'mon, I'm not going into the basement myself!"

"It is curious, how you can space jump onto a disc in the sky, or charge blindly onto an enormous Romulan vessel, and yet an empty, dark basement gives you pause enough that you require my presence to feel safe down there."

Jim glared at Spock, who only responded with an arched eyebrow and a slight upward quirk at the corner of his lips.

"You're lucky I don't wipe that stupid smirk off your face with the flashlight. Now come on, I bet you can fix the fuse better and faster than I ever could."

* * *

The aged stairs creaked in complaint as Jim led Spock down into the basement. The darkness seemed even thicker down there, with no light other than the flashlight. Jim swung it in every corner; just to be sure there was nothing and no one down there before padding over to the fuse box. He pried it open and held the light over it while Spock fixed it.

Jim leaned over Spock's shoulder, watching him work. Thunder rattled the house, and rain pounded against the windows. Spock glanced over at Jim, who was looking upward.

"Sounds awful out there, doesn't it," Jim mumbled.

"It does. It is a shame we could not go swimming as you wanted to," Spock answered, closing the box. With a faint buzz, the lights came back on.

"We can always go when the rain stops. It's not a big deal," Jim said, clicking off the flashlight. He followed Spock back upstairs, and threw himself on the couch instead of sitting on the floor again. "Are you gonna actually watch the movies now?" he asked.

"If you wish. Although I do not see the point in watching overly hormonal teenagers being chased by an axe wielding mad man and seeing false blood spraying everywhere." Spock set his book aside and settled in next to Jim. "It is illogical to attempt to procreate when one knows there is a murderer on the loose."

"It's supposed to be illogical and have no point. Although, sometimes they _are_ just plain ridiculous. Like zombies. Seriously, just knock their legs out from under them, and you're set. But people panic."

"I doubt people frequently encounter shambling corpses, and therefore are frightened when they see them. They are rather revolting in appearance. I assume they smell terrible as well having just crawled from the grave."

"Yeah, there's that I guess. And the whole bit about eating brains. Still, not the scariest thing I've ever seen." Jim stretched his arms up until his back cracked, and slid lower on the couch. Spock watched from the corner of his eye as Jim frowned, sat up, shifted and slouched again.

"No," he muttered, and turned so his legs hung over the arm of the couch and he was leaning on Spock. "This doesn't both you does it? You said I could invade your personal bubble only if it was necessary, but," Jim shrugged and turned so he could partially see Spock.

"One could argue that it is necessary for the both of us to sit here in comfort."

"Ok. Just checking," Jim covered a yawn, pushing himself lower into the cushions. Silence reigned for a few minutes, until it was broken by the captain.

"I'm beginning to see why Pancake likes sleeping curled up with you," he chuckled. "You're really, really warm. Cozy almost." He yawned again, a wide, jaw cracking yawn, and started to drift off to sleep.

"Jim? What about your own bed?" Spock queried, noting how Jim's eyes were shutting and his breathing was evening out.

"Don't want to. Happy on the couch. You're staying too," Jim reached over his shoulder and pulled Spock's arm across him. Within moments, he was fast asleep. And were he not Vulcan, Spock may have rolled his eyes, or smiled slightly in fondness at the childish display from Jim. He did, however, allow himself to feel a bit of relief that Dr. McCoy was not there to see them; he would most likely turn an interesting shade of red, curse needlessly and proceed to consume an alarming amount of alcohol, which in turn might be detrimental to his skill as a doctor.

* * *

The storm had tapered off come morning, leaving only pale grey skies and a light, steady drizzle.

Spock had customarily awoken after only a few short hours of sleep, and hours before Jim would even think of rising. He attempted to get up from the couch, which had not been as comfortable as Jim would have him believe, only to find himself unable. The captain had effectively trapped him in his grasp, both his arms around his waist. Jim's head was nestled under his arm and the soft smile on his face lead one to think he was utterly at peace and that where he was situated was _his_ place.

The notion caused Spock's stomach to lurch in an unfamiliar but not altogether unpleasant manner, which only made him that much more intent on freeing himself.

Jim protested somewhat to his arms being pried from around Spock, but mercifully did not wake as Spock pressed a nearby pillow into his arms and stepped away. Without a backward glance, he went up the stairs and into the bed room he had been given to meditate. He did _not_, to use the vernacular, freak out because of the fact the captain seemed to enjoy being wrapped around him or that he himself did not mind entirely; to do so would not only be illogical, but un-Vulcan.

* * *

Jim woke slowly, still lulled by the gentle tapping on the roof and the warm couch cushions. He rolled onto his back, lacing his fingers together and stretching his arms above his head. He had woken up on the couch, there was stale pop corn on the floor, and the front of his jeans was tented noticeably; another typical morning on shore leave, or frankly, any other time. He lightly draped his arms around the pillow on his chest, and tilted his head to the side. He seemed to recall there being someone else on the couch with him…

"Spock? Where are you?"

No doubt he was meditating in his room, as he was his habit in the early morning. What Jim couldn't figure out was why he'd get up so damned early just to sit in a sleeplike state for hours. But apparently it was calming or it centered him. As if he needed to be anymore calm; the Vulcan wasn't exactly bouncing off the walls like an overly caffeinated squirrel. That was Chekov's job usually, and they adored him for it.

Even knowing Spock and his schedule as well as he did, Jim still wanted to be sure he hadn't disappeared without a trace in the middle of the night without his knowledge. With this thought in mind, he climbed the stairs to peer around the slightly opened door to Spock's room.

* * *

Spock was in there all right. He must've just gotten out of the shower, as his dark hair was still damp, and stray water droplets were sliding down his back…his bare, lean back…to darken the top of his jeans. And where had Jim gotten such very, very tight jeans and when had he given them to Spock? But that wasn't all, of course not. No, Spock was apparently not only fond of meditation, but yoga as well.

Jim swallowed thickly past his hammering heart as Spock flexed his leg up behind him to almost the top of his head. Jesus, when had he become so flexible? Had he always been able to basically bend himself in half like he was doing right now, right in front of him? Jim stumbled backwards as noiselessly as he could, well aware that his morning erection, which had been dwindling, was back in full force. A shower, that was what he needed, as cold as he could take it.

The ice-cold spray needled at him, turning his skin pink and stinging at his face. But he felt more himself, more clear-headed, and not like he'd been hit between the eyes by a blast from a phaser, and that was the important thing. Jim leaned his forehead against the slick tiled wall, and sighed heavily, willing himself to act like a Starfleet captain and not a foolish, lovesick teenager.

* * *

He had become aware, at some point in their time together as captain and first officer, that Spock was, well, not unattractive. And he had kept that realization to himself; because Spock was dating Uhura, and she would not hesitate kick his ass should he try anything.

Not that he ever would, no; it was merely an idle observation that Spock was in fact desirable. So he told himself, until Spock had made mention that he and Uhura were no longer a couple and that he was not averse to joining Jim on shore leave. Since then, he just hadn't been able to resist…

"Jim?"

"Spock! Christ, don't do that!" Jim wished his voice didn't sound so strangled and that he hadn't just gotten soap in his eye. "Why are you in here now?"

"Given that you frequently came in here while I was in the shower, I did not believe you would object if I did the same. However, if you would prefer me to leave…"

"No, no, it's alright. I just wasn't expecting you to suddenly be there," Jim answered, knowing he would be the biggest hypocrite if he kicked Spock out. He wiped the soap from his eye, but it still burned. "Could you pass me the little towel by the sink please?" He stuck his hand out the shower curtain.

* * *

Jim's reaching fingers slid along the back of Spock's hand as he fumbled blindly for the towel. Spock stiffened, and quickly pulled his hand away. Jim stuck his head out the curtain, curiosity evident on his face despite half of it being hidden by the towel. Slowly comprehension dawned on him as he saw Spock's ears turning green and the hasty way he clasped his hands behind his back.

"Sorry about that, couldn't see," Jim told him, shrugging. He tugged his larger towel from the rack next to the shower and wrapped it around his waist, shaking the water from his hair. "Not to rush you or anything, but I'm not in an exhibitionist sort of mood this morning, so, if you maybe want to go downstairs? Unless you're a secret voyeur?" Jim smirked teasingly at Spock, who gave him a look before turning on his heel and pulling the door shut behind him.

Once in the hall, Spock relaxed his arms, and spared his hand a glance. Surely it had been an accident. Yes, he had told Jim at least that a Vulcan's hands were sensitive, and yes, the captain had been contentedly wrapped around his waist this morning, not as much to his chagrin as one would have thought, but that was no reason to assume that Jim knew what he had done. How could he?

Although…he had been quite friendly towards him thus far on shore leave. But he was a generally friendly person, and simply being a good host. Yes, that was it. The only question that remained was why he yet again had that not unpleasant warm lurch in his stomach.

* * *

Jim beamed at his reflection in the mirror, and shook his head. Now that he was back in control of himself, he could admit he'd been stupid. He'd just had a momentary lapse in his cool. But…one would have to be made of stone to not lose their head even a little at the sight Spock made doing his stretching shirtless. He wondered absentmindedly if he could remove shirts from the required uniform. Oh but then he'd have to apply it to everyone, not just himself and Spock. Damn. Oh well.

On the plus side, seeing just how flexible his first officer was had given him an idea of what they could do that evening, given that the less than stellar weather had not yet abated. And no, it did not involve a lack of clothes and a bed, table, or floor. That could come later, hopefully, if he played his cards right.

_A/N: phew. Finally. This chapter gave me a spot of trouble. Couple of times I had to step back, do some other stuff, and then come back. Like I went to the beach and almost caught a fish bare handed, and it distracted me enough that I could come back to this and focus better. I'm finally happy with this. _

_Oh, and a friend of mine asked me to promote a forum they made to discuss fan works, primarily fan fiction. It's at . So, yeah, I've done that. TTFN_


	5. Chapter 5

_A/N: Well, it's my goal to make this the first chapter with smut in it. We'll see how that goes. Sounds weird, but I'm gonna try and make it the best smut I've written, seeing as it seems like every time I try and write it, I sort of chicken out and I'm never quite pleased with it. So I intend to, if you'll excuse the pun, go all the way with this one. Hope it turns out ok._

Spock paused in his reading as a drop of water hit his head, slid down the tip of his nose and splashed onto the page he was open to. Another fell after that, hitting him in the ear, and he became aware of a shadow over him. Unable to suppress his curiosity, he leaned his head back and was met with Jim's naked chest. He raised his gaze to Jim's joyful face and nearly sighed, having come to recognize that look.

"Can I assist you with something Jim?"

"I've had an idea."

"I shall assume it was what you would classify as a good one, given that you had to forgo getting dressed simply to tell me."

"It is," Jim responded. "How disappointed would you be if we skipped our nightly chess game tonight? And don't give me the whole spiel about being Vulcan and therefore controlling your emotions; tell the truth."

"Given that the past week I have beaten you most nights at chess, I would not be disappointed to skip one night. Why?"

"Because we're going out tonight, seeing as the weather is still not nice enough to go swimming. To a club, bar type scene." Jim stepped back from leaning over the couch so he stopped dripping on Spock. "But you're gonna have to change."

Spock looked down at the plain navy blue shirt and jeans he had conceded to wearing. They were some of the only clothes Jim had loaned him that had no snarky phrases, holes, or mysterious stains that may have been the dinner Jim had eaten prior to leaving for Starfleet. He turned back to Jim, and noted that the towel was starting to come unknotted around his waist, situated precariously on his hip bones. While he asked what was wrong with the clothes he was wearing, Jim absently held it up, seeming to not care one way or the other if it fell.

"They're nice, but…well, you can keep the jeans, but you need a different shirt I think. I'll find something," Jim said thoughtfully, and went for the stairs, taking them two at a time and leaving wet footprints in his wake.

* * *

Wearing only a pair of grey boxer briefs, he dug through his closet trying to find something for Spock as well as himself. It wasn't hard to decide for himself; just a clean wife beater and his favorite faded red flannel shirt unbuttoned over it with a pair of jeans worn soft to the point of fraying and he was set. But what of his first officer? Nothing Jim found met his approval. In the end, he figured it best to leave well enough alone; besides, the blue looked good on him.

"Y'know what," he commented, traipsing back downstairs with a pair of socks in hand, "you look fine as is." He sat down in his armchair, pulling on his socks and grabbing his boots. Spock watched him over the top of his book a moment longer before dropping his gaze. He knew it was only because Jim couldn't find anything moderately clean or what he deemed appropriate for him that he wasn't being made to change.

* * *

"What're you reading?" Jim leaned over the chair to peer at the pages of Spock's book. His brows drew together as he tried to read the words. "Poetry in Vulcan?"

"Yes," Spock replied evenly. "Not only the works of Vulcan poets, but some of the greats from Earth translated into Vulcan. It was a gift from my mother when I was a child for Christmas. She wished to continue celebrating it, even though she was not on Earth. She also wished for me to have an understanding of different aspects of human culture, holidays among them. Though I never did get to go 'trick-or-treating'."

"You never got Halloween?" Jim gasped, remembering dressing up as scarily as he could and terrorizing the town in search of free candy with his friends.

"The other children who could have joined me did not see the logic in wearing costumes in an attempt to receive free sugar laden foods which were highly unhealthy," Spock said. "And I already had so few companions; I did not desire to ostracize myself further by being the sole child doing so."

Jim frowned, small creases forming between his brows. "What if we had a Halloween party back on the Enterprise? Would that be terribly illogical?"

Spock paused before answering, choosing his words carefully. "It could be deemed as merely an endeavor to bolster crew morale and encourage closeness, and not illogical at all."

"Cool. And, you're never too old to dress like an idiot and score free candy. I mean, Halloween is the only night where that's like a requirement. I bet Chekov's gonna love this, he's still young enough to really love it. Remind me when we get back on board to make a note," Jim said with barely veiled excitement. Spock almost allowed himself a small smile before agreeing with "Of course Jim."

* * *

"So who are you reading anyway?" Jim asked after a while. "Anyone I know?" He stretched to see the lines of poetry. "It was many and many a year ago, in a kingdom by the sea, that a maiden there lived, whom you may know, by the name of Annabel Lee. Poe, translated into Vulcan. You like Poe?" He glanced up to see the look of blatant surprise on Spock's face before he controlled it, and snickered.

"Yeah, I can read Vulcan, and speak a little bit. I memorized this poem in Vulcan once for I girl I was seeing. She had a thing for poetry and I thought I'd impress her by reading one of her favorites in another language." Jim's grin widened, and he leaned in to whisper conspiratorially, "She was very, very impressed." He waggled his eyebrows suggestively, and laughed again.

Spock kept it to himself that he too was impressed that Jim was able not only to read in Vulcan, but to memorize an entire poem. "If you would like, I could teach you more from this book. It contains more works of Poe, as well as Byron, Shakespeare, and numerous others."

Jim nodded and crawled over the chair to perch on the back of the couch next to Spock. "I wouldn't mind learning _The_ _Raven_. It's my favorite by Poe. That's in there, right?"

"Of course. It is in fact one of my favorites as well." Spock remarked, turning to a page that had obviously been dog-eared many times. Despite not knowing him for that long, he had never thought that Jim Kirk would be one for poetry. However, he supposed that it was not altogether different than discovering his captain not only played chess, but was quite good at it as well, enough to beat him on occasion.

"You going to teach me or just sit there looking at me?" Jim's voice snapped him from his unintentional reverie.

"My apologies Jim," Spock murmured, scanning the page.

"S'okay. It happens," Jim replied, returning his attention to the book. And if his knee bumped against Spock's shoulder more than was necessary, Spock didn't say anything; just as Jim didn't say a word when the Vulcan tilted _just slightly_ into him when he stretched over to point out a particularly tricky word.

* * *

Come dusk, they closed the book, and stretched limbs that were sore from being in the same position for the better part of the day. Outside, the rain hadn't lessened, and the tapping of the drops kept rhythm to the small toads and crickets that sang and chirped under the porch. Spock idly watched dull brown moths fly in dizzying circles into the bare light bulb that illuminated the porch and yard while waiting for Jim to gather his wallet and keys.

They rode in silence, the radio on for background noise. Spock was sitting in characteristic ramrod straight fashion, while Jim slouched as much as one can whilst driving, his foot tapping in time with the song and his fingers drumming on the steering wheel. The truck bounced over potholes, the shocks squealing in protest. Jim sat up more, knowing how bad the roads could get when it rained. Spock arched an eyebrow when he faintly heard Jim talking to the truck.

"C'mon baby, just a little further. You can make it," he urged, gritting his teeth and switching gears.

"You do not expect the vehicle to respond, do you?"

"Nope, just a habit I guess. My mom used to baby the truck to get it to go, and she swore it worked," Jim grunted as they caught the edge of a rather deep hole and gripped the steering wheel harder. After an eternity, they reached town, and Jim eased the truck into a lot. "It's cheaper parking here and not having to pay. We're gonna have to walk though, if you don't mind. It's not far though," he said, shrugging. Spock assured him that he did not mind, as it was just rain.

The entrance to the establishment was only about five blocks away, lit up by street lamps. Jim lead Spock up to it, and pulled open the door for him.

* * *

The first thing the Vulcan was aware of was the noise. Music blared out from an unknown source, at once controlling his heart rate with its heady, bass beat. After that, as his eyes adjusted to the dim lighting broken only by bright flares of strobe light, he felt all the people, ranging from Andorians to Orions to those that populated Iowa. Spock at once wished the sleeves of his shirt were longer; given the writhing mass of bodies, the chances of him avoiding contact were slim to none.

Jim looked over his shoulder at Spock, and started to doubt that this had been a good idea. His first officer looked almost shell shocked, as though he couldn't quite handle all the elements of the club at once. He figured the best thing was for him to remain at Spock's side as best he could while simultaneously keeping him from the crowd.

A hand closed around Spock's arm, and he could feel the concern emanating from it. He traced it to Jim, who was gazing at him worriedly. "Follow me!" he shouted over the music, and pulled Spock towards the bar. "What do you want to drink?"

"Alcohol doesn't affect Vulcans," Spock answered, straining to make himself heard.

"Yeah but Spock," Jim wheedled. "You're half Vulcan. So therefore they should half way affect you, and therefore again, you need twice as much alcohol. It's logical. Now what do you want?"

Unfortunately, Spock saw the logic in Jim's statement. That did not mean, however, that he wanted to lower his inhibitions, and he said as much, while asking that Jim just order for him.

* * *

By this point, the bartender had focused on them and recognized Jim. "Well if it isn't Jimmy Kirk. Last time I saw you boy, you were bleeding all over the table. Hope you're not planning on making a repeat performance," the man fixed a steely glare on Jim.

"Nah, not tonight. Just here to show my friend around," Jim clapped Spock on the shoulder. "I'll take two shots of Jack, and a rum and coke for him," he glanced at Spock. "That's not gonna screw up your system, is it?" Spock shook his head, and accepted his drink when it arrived, taking a small sip. Jim watched him, wanting to see his reaction. Spock furrowed his eyebrows, apparently analyzing the taste. Jim rolled his eyes, "Well?"

"It is not unpleasant. I would not, however, want to make a habit of imbibing these. May I ask a question?" Spock inquired, startling Jim a bit with the sudden topic change.

"Go ahead."

"Why were you bleeding on the table the last time you were here?"

Jim smiled awkwardly. "Ah, yeah that. Well, this is actually the place I first met Uhura. It was pretty quiet that night; only on weekends does it get like this. Anyway, I might've been sort of flirting with her a little. And, you remember that big red shirt who hauled me and Scotty onto the bridge? He was here, and took exception to my 'hassling' her. He and his buddies introduced me to the décor, forcefully. Pike stepped in, and the rest, as they say, is history." Jim downed his second shot and gave Spock a half grin. "I'm pretty sure me calling him cupcake didn't endear me to him either."

"I see," Spock said blithely. Which of course meant, to one who could read between the lines, "It amazes me on occasion how you have managed to live this long." Jim understood, and snorted. "C'mon, let's get out of the mass." He tried to get himself and Spock onto the fringes of the dancers and into a secluded corner where they could hopefully hear themselves think and Spock wouldn't feel so confined. Unfortunately, that wasn't going to happen.

* * *

Jim lost Spock almost as soon as he tried to squirm among the crowd to a raised circular table. And it seemed the more he tried to force his way back to where he'd last seen him, the thicker the throng became, until he was surrounded on all sides. He stood on tip toe, craning his neck to find that familiar neat black haircut and the pointed ears.

"Hey, you're Jim Kirk aren't you? Do you remember me? We went to school together."

He lowered himself, and found the person talking to him. Auburn hair, hazel eyes, freckles sprinkled across what he had once thought was the cutest nose he'd ever seen and full lips curving up in a coy smile. The last time he'd seen her those same lips had been set in an unattractive sneer as she shot him down when he'd asked her to the dance, one of the few girls to do so. And then she'd set her older brother on him, claiming he got rough with her. Oh how she had laughed callously with her friends when he returned to school, his arm in a sling and his lip still swollen. Of course Jim remembered her.

"Keely. I remember you, yeah," he grumbled. She gave a tinkling laugh, her nose scrunching up.

"I've heard just _sooo_ much about you; I couldn't believe the Jimmy I'd grown up with was a captain, the youngest one in Starfleet right?" Keely laid her hand on his arm.

"Something like that," Jim replied, ignoring her while still searching for Spock. No doubt the Vulcan was feeling out of his depth by that point. Maybe if he acted like he didn't care she'd get the point and go away. But, she had never been a bright one, and continued feeling up his arm, and rambling on and on about how handsome he'd grown, and what a good captain he made, and how she'd always liked him a little.

A younger Jim would have been overjoyed at the fact that Keely was finally noticing his greatness instead of having him beat up by her brother. A younger Jim would have taken her home, had a probably amazing night, and subsequently had his heart broken when she was gone the next morning. That younger Jim did not know of Spock though, and that despite their rocky start, the Vulcan would remain loyal to the end while the girls only interested in his fame and captaincy would come and go. The older (but not much) Jim did know Spock however, and brushed Keely off in favor of searching for his first officer.

Keely harrumphed as Jim broke free of her grasp and started winding his way through the swarm, not even sparing her a glance.

* * *

He found Spock still by the bar, cornered by a pretty brunette in a skin tight strapless red dress. As Jim watched, she skimmed her hand up his arm to trace the point of his ear before settling for playing with his hair. Spock's eyes were staring straight ahead, giving every indication that he was oblivious to her attention. But even from where he was in the middle of the dance floor, Jim could see a muscle working in his jaw, which was clenched achingly tight. He caught Spock's gaze, and was surprised to see his dark eyes widen fractionally, and his eyebrows rose to his hairline, unmistakably requesting help.

Jim grinned back at him, before turning around. He mussed up his hair, pulled his flannel shirt off one shoulder, un-tucked his wife beater, and did his best to act completely drunk and over exuberant.

"Spock! Been lookin' all over fer ya," he slurred, slinging his arm around Spock's shoulders. He snatched up Spock's forgotten drink, and downed half of it, purposely being sloppy and spilling on the girl. "Whoops! Sorry babe," he giggled and hiccupped. "Ohh…I'm not feeling too good."

"Perhaps Jim, you should go to the restroom and clean up?" Spock suggested, disentangling himself from the angry girl, who stormed off. Jim nodded, still playing his part as he tripped dopily to the bathroom, holding onto Spock for support; while Spock rationalized that the spurt of jealousy he had felt had come from the scorned girl, and not Jim, who burst into laughter once the door was closed.

* * *

"I am such a genius sometimes!" Jim crowed, fixing his hair and pulling his shirt back on. He looked in the mirror at Spock, who was giving him the barest suggestion of a grin. "She was hitting on you so hard," Jim said nonchalantly.

"I am aware. She made her intentions clear not only with her actions, but I could feel her emotions from where her hand lay on my arm. Apparently, she was only interested in me because I was both a Vulcan and first officer on the Enterprise," Spock responded, with no change in tone, as though it didn't matter to him. It probably didn't matter, or if it did, he of course wouldn't show it; at any rate, Jim was doing a good job sharing his displeasure at it enough for the both of them.

"The same thing happened to me! From a girl who not only rejected me when I asked her to a school dance, but then had her older, stronger brother beat the shit out of me. As thought I'd forget all that and just fall into her arms and then her bed." Jim shook his head disparagingly. "It totally sucks the fun right out of it when you _know_ they just want you for your fame. I am not some toy for them to just use and neither are you," he added. "I'm thinking we should go back to my house now. This isn't as much fun as I'd thought it'd be. Sorry."

"It is not your fault Jim. I do agree that we should leave, before we are accosted yet again," Spock recommended. He and Jim picked their way through the multitude, and out the door into the rainy night. Jim jumped over and through puddles, not quite drunk but definitely feeling warm and rather fond of the entire world. Spock kept pace beside him, stepping around the puddles and could admit to himself that the little bit of the drink he'd drank had left him pleasantly content as well. He was not about to start skipping down the street, jumping in cold dirty puddles like a certain captain though.

Said captain probably should have been looking where he was going. His shoes were full of water, his jeans sodden and weighing him down and it was dark, so he should have been being careful. But he was enjoying himself, half turning to call back to Spock to hurry up.

When he turned around, Jim crashed into a broad chest and staggered back.

* * *

"Watch where yer goin'!"

_Oh_ _that's_ _nice_, Jim thought. He was the one with the sore nose, and they were surly. He glared up at the guy, clutching his nose which, while it wasn't bleeding, was throbbing and red, and inwardly groaned. Another trip down memory lane was _so_ not what he needed. Regrettably, the guy who'd stepped out of the convenience store and his companion recognized Jim as well, and leered unpleasantly at him.

"Lookit here," the one Jim had crashed into, Benjamin, elbowed his friend, Gabe. "It's Jimmy Kirk! Driven any cars off cliffs lately Jimmy?"

"Nah Ben, I heard he was working for Starfleet now. I heard they made our little Jimmy a captain," Gabe sniggered. "That true Jimmy?"

"Yeah Gabby," Jim shot back spitefully, "it's true. Youngest captain to ever serve in Starfleet. It's what happens when you save the world."

"Oh that's right. You're a big hero now, aren't you?" Benjamin drawled. "Saved the Earth, but couldn't save Vulcan, could you?"

Jim flushed angrily, his fists clenching at his sides. Almost instinctively, he could tell Spock had stiffened behind him. But that only drew their attention to him instead. Jim wished he could've kept it on himself; he was used to dealing with them from school, making fun of everything from his father's death to his mothers string of boyfriends, to just him in general. And while Spock told him he had his share of bullies as a child, he hadn't had these two.

Benjamin and Gabe knocked into Jim as they strode past him to Spock. They circled him slowly, stopping behind him so they flanked him.

"Would you look at those ears…Gabe, we're looking at a member of an endangered species right there," Benjamin pointed at Spock, who kept his gaze on Jim. Jim, who he noticed, was visibly livid.

"Benjy, that's not just a member of an endangered species, I think that's Jimmy's first officer. That Spock we've heard so much about in the news," Gabe said.

"Think you're right Gabe," Benjamin said slowly. "Now, isn't he half human?" He laughed, a jarring, bray of a sound. "I heard he was the first to go to Starfleet, but only because they didn't want him on Vulcan. From the way I heard it, he's the planet pariah, not one of them and not one of us. Bet you're glad the planet's gone then-''

* * *

Benjamin's next words were cut off by a red blur lunging at him, almost knocking Spock off his feet in his mad rush. Jim was on top of Benjamin in seconds, beating at his head repeatedly and snarling wordlessly. Blood flew in an arc from his fists as the larger man tried to ward off Jim's blows. Gabe snatched the back of Jim's shirt, hauling him off and pinning him against a wall by his neck. He started to punch Jim, who was turning red and slowly blue.

Meanwhile, Spock attempted to aid his captain. He leapt over the fallen Benjamin and wrapped his hand around Gabe's wrist. He cringed mentally at the myriad of distasteful thoughts lurking in the other man's mind, and instead tried to pull his arm from Jim's neck. With a growl, Gabe swung his other arm back, his big hand curled into a fist aimed at Spock's head. A large class ring on his finger caught the Vulcan at the temple, splitting the skin and causing green blood to drip down his face. For whatever reason, this only seemed to incense Jim more, and he kicked his legs out as best he could into the stomach of his captor.

Gabe actually lurched backward, heaving. Jim slipped to the ground, wheezing just as hard and trying to stand. Spock, after delivering a nerve pinch to Gabe as well as Benjamin, slipped his arm under Jim's and pulled him to his feet.

"Are you alright?"

"I'll…live," Jim coughed. "You?"

"A minor injury," Spock answered, starting to march Jim back towards the truck. "That was a stupid thing to do Jim. Stupid, yet noble. Thank you."

Jim did his best to grin around the blood dripping from his lips. "Yeah well, no one gets to insult you but me, and only when it's necessary, and Bones, but that's just who he is." He tried to keep up with Spock, but his legs didn't quite want to support him. He'd bruised them in his charging Benjamin, and then had them slammed into a wall; couple that with the fading adrenaline, and it was no wonder he couldn't walk.

Spock stopped to let Jim catch his breath. When his captain still couldn't make his legs work properly, the Vulcan stooped, slipped one arm around his legs, and lifted him as though he weighed nothing. Jim, though he would never admit it, pouted at the treatment, arms crossed petulantly.

"I'm not a child Spock," he complained, hoping desperately that no one saw him being carried by his first officer down the street, soaking wet and beaten to a pulp. Spock sensibly did not inform Jim that he sounded like a child with his whining, and assured him that he knew he was not a child, but he was injured and attempting to walk and drive would be highly illogical. Grudgingly, Jim dug the keys from his pocket and handed them over to Spock.

"Just out of curiosity, you know how to drive, don't you?" Jim was shivering in the passenger seat, dripping wet and missing the warmth he'd gotten huddled against Spock's chest. Spock arched an eyebrow at him that managed to convey loud and clear that Jim was a moron for even doubting him, and that of course he could drive. "Ok, ok, sorry I asked." Jim sunk in the seat, wincing as his fresh bruises protested the movement.

He was feeling a bit better by the time they pulled into the driveway at the house. He at least felt sure he could walk on his own. Yet Spock still insisted on carrying him inside, completely ignoring his protests, which may or may not have been only cursory. But he'd never tell.

_A/N: ok, so I know I promised smut, but this chapter went a little longer than I thought it would. But I promise, next chapter. Honest. Oh, and thanks to LostSchizophrenic, who suggested the whole go into town, bullies harass, hurt comfort smut thing. It was a good idea and I'm glad they thought of it and suggested it.  
_


	6. Chapter 6

_A/N: sorry about the wait for this chapter. I unfortunately had a bad bout w/ writers' block, which always leads to me second guessing myself and not being quite so confident in my writing. It's so bloody frustrating, and on top of that I'm starting freshman year at college in a week or so…gah! _

_Ok, ranted enough, here's the smut I promised, and shall deliver before introducing the conflict. Yes, there will be a conflict, but of course, I won't be revealing it here. In the next few chapters. For now, enjoy what will with luck be the best smut I've ever written. _

"Spock, for god's sake would you just sit still?!"

"Captain, the injuries you sustained are far worse than mine and require more attention."

"Now don't slip back into calling me Captain again. You were doing so well. Besides, I cleaned up already, the bruises aren't that bad, and my lip is already closing. It's not the first time I've been choked; although _you_ did a far better job of almost killing me."

"I _am_ three times stronger than you. It was not my aim to kill you, however."

"Just couldn't think of a polite way to say, 'cadet, back the fuck off now' then?" Jim grinned cheekily at Spock.

"I was not thinking clearly, and regret my actions. I told you this when I apologized."

"I know." Those two words managed to express just how bad he had felt about kicking Spock when he was down that day.

By now, Jim had finished wiping the dried blood from Spock's face, having successfully distracted him. He stood up, throwing the green stained tissue in the trash.

"I'm going to get a bandage. You had better still be sitting there when I get back, or I'm tying you to the couch," he threatened, wishing he had a hypospray to back him up. It always worked for Bones. Well, that or the false promise of some Saurian brandy or Romulan ale. One would think he would know better by now that the good doctor never had alcohol he was willing to share.

Jim rummaged through the cabinet in the bathroom, finally finding the box of small bandages. He shook it, and was pleased to hear a few sliding around. He found the antiseptic cream as well, left on the back of the sink from when he had to bandage the scratches Spock had gotten from Pancake.

"Spock, are you still in the couch where I left you?" Jim called on his way back downstairs. He snickered when he saw the way Spock's eyebrow rose. "Of course you are."

"I did not wish for you injure yourself further," Spock replied.

"How would I injure myself?"

"I would not simply allow you bind me, and in your present condition, it is even more unlikely that you will be able to overpower me."

Jim rolled his eyes. He had to agree that he'd never be able to take Spock on his own, and he really didn't care for another beating so soon after the fight with Benjamin and Gabe. But at the same time, the image of Spock being tied up _just_ so Jim could bandage him made him grin a little; it felt a lot like overkill.

* * *

Spock was passive under Jim's hands as he brushed back his dark, still damp hair. The cut had finally ceased bleeding, though it was still tender, given the way Spock stiffened as Jim smeared a dab of the cream on it. The bandage wrapper fluttered to the couch cushion next to the Vulcan after Jim pulled it out and smoothed it over the faint mark. He combed Spock's hair back into place, his fingers lingering longer than necessary just above the angled eyebrow before tracing the curve of his pointed ear.

"Jim," Spock's voice was soft, belying the firm grip he suddenly had around Jim's wrist. Jim hadn't even seen him move. He froze, pulse hammering under Spock's hand. What he didn't-_couldn't_-know was that he'd been broadcasting longing just from his fingertips on Spock's temple, and it was…overwhelming to say the least. To say the most would be to say he couldn't think at all around the influx of '_wantgreensoprettySpockwantpleaseears__**want!**__'_.

The tube of antiseptic and box of bandages slipped from Jim's hand, landing on the floor to be forgotten. Cautiously, he skimmed the fingers of his free hand across the back of Spock's where it was still clasped around his wrist, pleased when the Vulcan's eyes slid shut and his breathing quickened just so.

"You are drunk," he whispered, though who was trying to convince, himself or Jim, was anyone's guess.

"Spock, you wound me."

Spock's eyes opened, and he gave Jim a puzzled look. It honestly wasn't that different from any other look he had, unless one knew how to read between the eyebrows. And of course, Jim was learning just how to do that.

"I mean, do you think I'm such a lightweight that I'd be completely wasted on two shots and a sip of your drink? You're looking at one of the only people who can go drink for drink with Bones and Scotty and hold their own. I know exactly what I'm doing, and so do you."

"A staggering achievement to be sure. My apologies, I had momentarily forgotten that a requirement to associate with Dr. McCoy was the ability to 'hold your liquor' and that as his friend you would logic-''

Spock's speech, most likely to distract from his captain's admittance that he was in complete control of his actions, was interrupted by Jim's chapped, still slightly swollen lips on his own. It was unexpectedly chaste, as though Jim was wary of startling Spock away. When he pulled back, his blue eyes were anxious, searching for some clue that he'd overstepped his bounds.

"Sorry," Jim said, and his breath hitched over the last syllable. "I just could tell you were working up to a major rant about Bones and his drinking, and if I didn't cut you off now, we'd get nowhere fast."

Ignoring the illogic of the idiom 'nowhere fast', Spock affected an almost haughty attitude, and informed Jim, "Vulcans do not rant. They discuss. To rant is a human flaw, and while I may be half human-''

Again, Spock found himself interrupted by Jim's lips on his own, more insistent this time. Jim leaned precariously on the couch, his legs bumping against Spock's as he boldly swiped the tip of his tongue across Spock's lips.

There was still the barest tang of blood on Jim's lips as Spock attempted to reciprocate, gliding his tongue along Jim's bottom lip before catching it in his teeth, nipping. Jim gasped and moaned, surprised at the reaction. His arms buckled, and he fell into Spock, and regrettably, away from his mouth. He rolled over so he was sprawled wantonly in the Vulcan's lap, beaming at him smugly.

"So?"

Spock reflected momentarily. "While I do not agree with being interrupted, even by a superior officer, I find I do not entirely disagree with the method of interrupting." He drew in a breath as Jim twined their fingers together and squeezed. He exhaled slowly, willing himself to maintain his control, yet his breath still shook. Judging from the devious grin on Jim's face, he heard it.

* * *

Jim resisted the urge to pump his fist in the air at successfully putting a crack in the stoic Vulcan's armor. But it still wasn't enough for him to catch his breath. No, he wanted Spock to lose all the control he clung to. He sat up so he was straddling him, keeping their fingers laced while laying his other arm around Spock's neck, playing with his hair.

"Open your eyes Spock. Please?"

His tone was cajoling; light, and sincere. Spock blinked, and found Jim's eyes very close to his own and shades darker than their usual clear, sky blue. Their lips were a hair's breadth apart, and whether it was Jim or Spock who finally closed the distance was never definite. When asked years later, if he felt like teasing the Vulcan, Jim would insist it was Spock, succumbing to his powers of persuasion and attractiveness. Spock would say that it had been a tie and would Jim please stop attempting to embarrass him? Whoever started it didn't matter at the moment. What mattered was that for the third time that evening, they were kissing.

Jim pulled his fingers free from Spock's, grabbing instead at his shirt with little care for if he stretched it out of shape. His lungs were starting to burn with the need for oxygen, but really who needed to breathe when Spock was rubbing his tongue against the roof of his mouth in that slow, deliciously torturous way?

Jim wrenched away with a gasp; apparently _he_ needed to breathe. Damn. At least in the meantime, while they both caught their breaths, he could start working on their clothes.

Pancake hissed as she was disturbed from her nap on the armchair. She kicked Jim's shirt off her back and leapt down, throwing him a dirty look as she went upstairs where she would be left in peace.

"You have upset her," Spock observed.

Jim grunted non-commitally in answer, skating his hands under Spock's shirt and over his ribs. He jerked the material up, trying to pull it over Spock's head, only to have Spock once more grip his wrists and stop him. Jim sighed, feeling suddenly calm and a little more patient, and realized it was Spock projecting from where he held him. His wrists were let go, and Spock pulled his shirt off and folded it before laying it on the back of the couch. Jim would have groaned in frustration, had Spock not chosen to pick up where they had left off, cupping Jim's face and bringing their lips together bruisingly. Jim opened his mouth to Spock, fumbling at the button of his jeans. He peeled the sodden material down as far as they would go until he had to rise up on his knees to remove them. They landed with a wet thud on the floor behind the couch, his briefs not far behind.

"I do not believe that my jeans will come off so easily with you atop me," Spock said, his voice relatively even despite the fact that Jim was currently licking the outer shell of his ear before biting the tip. A shudder ran through him, and he could feel Jim's mouth turn up in a smile around his ear. He undid the fly of Spock's jeans, leaving them gaping open and revealing the black briefs pressed tight to Spock's abdomen. Without breaking eye contact, Jim started to slither backwards, pulling the jeans and briefs with him until he was on his knees on the floor and the pants were around the Vulcan's ankles.

* * *

Spock was already half hard, his cock tinged dark green amidst a nest of short, dark hair. Even only half erect, he was impressive. Jim's tongue slid out and moistened his lips as he stared. In the back of his mind, he wondered if Uhura had ever done this, had ever taken Spock in her mouth and shown him her talented tongue. He forced the thought away, stamping it down. If she had, it was of no importance; he would prove himself better, and Spock would forget the name Nyota Uhura. Quickly flashing Spock a wicked grin, he licked a stripe up the underside of his cock and pulled the head into his mouth.

With every pull of Jim's lips, every swipe and tease of his tongue and caress of his hand, another layer of Spock's control crumbled. He bucked his hips unconsciously, bumping into the back of Jim's throat and forcing the other man to pull back to breathe. Yet fond amusement still shone in his blue eyes as he slid back down and gently, oh so gently, set his teeth to the delicate flesh. Spock's eyes clenched tight and he fisted his hand in Jim's blonde hair. Warm pressure flared and coiled low in his abdomen, increasing in intensity until he arched upward, straining and shivering and biting his tongue to stop the moans and begging from bursting from his lips. Just as he teetered on the edge of bliss, about to fall, Jim released him, licking the corner of his lips.

Jim's eyes raked over what he had done, and was thrilled at the outcome. Spock was actually slouched deep in the cushions, his hair mussed and his cheeks stained green. His cock stood at attention, slicked with saliva and pre-come, and his breathing was almost labored. His eyes opened wide as Jim climbed back onto his lap, holding himself above his erection and pulled Spock's hands to rest on his thighs. Jim dug his fingers into Spock's shoulders, hissing at the immediate pain as he started to lower himself onto him.

* * *

It ached, a dull throb that made Jim wish he had spent even a little time preparing himself instead of just Spock, or that he'd thought to grab some lube. Each inch sent pain lancing up his back, and told him he'd be sore later. He squeezed his eyes shut against the tears that burned behind them. God damn it he was captain, he had been fucked before, and would, god willing, most likely be in the future and _he_ _could_ _handle_ _it_. Until Spock's warm hand rested against his cheek, his thumb wiping away the tear that had leaked down his face.

_Jim_?

"It's nothing," Jim answered, not even realizing that he'd heard Spock's voice in his head as opposed to out loud. He sucked in a deep breath as he settled with Spock fully sheathed inside him, and then started to move. Spock rolled his hips with him, and by chance, brushed against his prostate. Jim moaned as the pain started to subside, over ridden by pleasure with each thrust. He clung tighter to Spock as they found a rhythm, and Spock's hand drifted down from his face to wrap around his neglected cock and start stroking, twisting his hand just the right way. Jim let out a strangled cry, his head thrown back. Already he was so close, too close, trembling and thrusting erratically.

"Shit, Spock. I can't…I'm…" he panted and moaned, all of his muscles seeming to tighten at once. With a wordless cry he came, spurting on his and Spock's chests, as well as Spock's hand. He clenched around Spock, bringing his orgasm and riding it out with him as tremors shook them both and Spock yelled something that sounded suspiciously like "Jim!"

They sagged into each other, breaths coming in harsh gasps. Spock laid his head on the back of the couch, eyes shut as he rebuilt his control. He was not aided by Jim unexpectedly pulling his hand upward and proceeding to lick it clean, sucking obscenely on each of his fingers with all the skill he had demonstrated on certain other parts of his anatomy.

"Jim, please," he extricated his hand from Jim's grip, placing it instead around his waist.

"Sorry," Jim mumbled, wincing slightly as he pulled himself off of Spock. "Move over a bit," he asked, and Spock scooted so his back was pressed against the arm of the couch and Jim was leaning against his chest. Spock gently carded his fingers through Jim's sweat dampened hair, feeling a surge of contentment issuing from him as he nestled closer. Jim's thoughts were understandably jumbled, leaving Spock unable to decipher their exact nature, but he could tell with certainty that his captain had greatly enjoyed himself.

* * *

Three things ran through Jim's mind upon waking in quick successive order.

His first thought was that there was sunlight coming from somewhere, which obviously meant the rain had finally let up. They could go swimming!

Followed by that was realization that the sunlight was coming through his bedroom window, and he definitely remembered falling asleep on the couch.

Finally, he seemed to recall there being a certain Vulcan curled up with him on that couch when he fell asleep.

* * *

"How the hell did I get into my bed?"

"You expressed a desire to sleep somewhere more comfortable, but had neither the strength nor the will power to move. I carried you."

Jim craned his neck, and saw Spock with his back to him by the window, his hands clasped behind him as usual. He was once more ramrod straight and perfectly groomed, dressed in his pressed black Starfleet issued clothes, the picture of Vulcan stoicism. Except, he wasn't really, even Jim could see that, but he wouldn't be the one to point out to Spock that his emotions were showing no matter how good of a night they had shared.

"Spock? Something wrong?"

Well, so much for not pointing out his emotions were showing.

Spock was quiet for so long, continuing to stare out the window, though Jim doubted if he was really seeing it. He opened his mouth to prompt him again, when he answered with something Jim hadn't been expecting.

* * *

"I was betrothed as a child on Vulcan. My bride to be, T'Pring, was among those unable to get to safety when the planet was destroyed."

"Oh…I'm…sorry," Jim answered awkwardly. Spock turned to face him, and held up his hand for silence.

"Do not be. We…did not get along. She favored another boy, Stonn, who was chief among those who bullied me. I have little doubt that a marriage to her would have been unsatisfying, not only because I was not who she cared for, but because of my heritage. However, my father is on the counsel, and we were betrothed nonetheless. When we were older, we were to have been bonded. Now she is gone."

Jim nodded slowly, trying to get his sleep foggy mind to catch up. "What does that have to do with me?"

"On Vulcan, relationships are taken very seriously Jim. The concept of a 'fling' does not exist there."

"Ok, but what about Uhura?"

"I would have explained to her the situation when the time came, were we still together at that point. Since we are not, and T'Pring is dead, there is no need."

"Right. Logical," Jim nodded once more. "But that still doesn't tell me what that has to do with me."

"I must ask if what occurred between us last night was just a 'drunken fling' or if it was your round about, convoluted way of pursuing a monogamous relationship with me. If it is the former, I would ask that it not happen again. If it is the latter, I suggest we discuss it."

Jim sighed, running his hand over his face. What he really needed was a strong cup of coffee and a shower before having deep, introspective conversations with Vulcans who were trying to hide their insecurities. But he didn't think Spock would give him that time.

"It was the latter. I hadn't put much thought into it, and just so you know, I'm usually better than I was. Not that last night wasn't amazing; I'm surprised I can remember my own name. And, even though it was all hurried and pretty spur of the moment, it felt right, and I had wanted it for a while, I guess," he replied, his gaze on the floor.

"How long, if I may ask?"

"Ever since you bent me over the control panel and choked me half to death," Jim said instantly, leering up at Spock through his lashes. Spock's eyebrow disappeared beneath his bangs. "Not the time for jokes, got it. Truth then. You remember when you first came on board after the Narada incident?" Spock inclined his head. "About then. I'd been waiting, well, we all had. We knew your position hadn't been filled yet, and we were all hoping it would be you. It just wouldn't have been the same if it wasn't. I didn't know if you had resigned, or were going back to Vulcan or what. But then you came on board, and it hit me hard how much I needed you. Pike was right that we did-_do_-make a good team. That was the start of it, and it, whatever it was, grew from there." Jim shrugged as he finished, scratching the back of his neck.

* * *

"To clarify, so we are clear, you wish to pursue a relationship with me, strictly monogamous?" Spock asked, folding his arms across his chest.

"Yes, I wish to pursue a relationship with you, strictly monogamous," Jim repeated back. "God, what d'you want me to do, give you my class ring and ask you to go steady?"

"That will not be necessary. I do however, have to explain certain aspects of Vulcan culture to you."

"That's wonderful. I've got another question though. You were pretty quick to respond last night to me. You didn't push me away, when you could have easily dumped my ass on the ground. You like me, don't you Spock? A little."

The tips of Spock's ear burned green, and he answered, "_Like_ has varying definitions Jim."

"That's not a no!" Jim snickered, bouncing up from the bed, still nude. "You like me! I knew it!"

"I admit to enjoying your company on occasion, but how do you know I am not merely using you for your body? Or as a means to the captaincy?"

Jim stopped jumping, his face falling as he shot Spock a shocked look. Spock met his eyes, and even managed to convey smugness with an eyebrow twitch. "I need coffee."

* * *

Jim huddled over his second cup of coffee, savoring the scent. His first had been downed straight black, just to jolt him to alertness. This second one was full of milk and sugar, and tasted divine. He took another sip, and gestured for Spock to start his lesson on Vulcan culture in regards to mates.

"I should mention first that I will be much longer lived than you," he began, sounding as though he was giving a lecture.

"No shit," Jim muttered without thinking, recalling the lined face of the elder Spock on Delta Vega. "You'll be much longer lived and look a helluva lot better." He jerked his head up, realizing what he'd said, and his promise to the elder Vulcan. "Damn it!"

"If you are referring to my elder self, I am aware of his existence and that you have met him," Spock replied, the corner of his mouth twitching and his eyes twinkling with enjoyment at Jim's discomfiture.

"But he told me you couldn't know! That bad things would happen! That son of a bitch lied to me! You lied to me!" Jim pointed accusingly at Spock.

"No, he merely implied that universe ending paradoxes would occur were you to break your promise. You inferred from there. It was an act of faith he took with you, one I imagine he took quite frequently with the alternate you," Spock quoted.

"Between you and me, I think the other you and me were a little more than close friends," Jim said conspiratorially. "I got that impression when he recognized who I was, and when he did the mind meld thing."

Spock's brows rose even higher. "Fascinating. A relationship that transcends time and space. I begin to understand what my other self meant when he said to do what feels right. He told me that our friendship would define me in ways I could not even imagine."

"I think he was just trying to play match maker." Jim set his coffee mug down. "Anyway, what else do I need to know?"

* * *

Spock went on to explain the concept of Pon Farr to Jim. He attempted to impress upon him that they would, when it was his time, be effectively married in the eyes of his people. Also, the bond between them, which he assured him was there, would grow stronger. Unfortunately, as was his wont, Jim was stuck on the prospect of sex.

"So, wait, hang on, you're gonna need to have sex or die, right? Lots of sex? With me?"

"Yes Jim," Spock answered yet again, fighting the urge to rub his temples. Jim looked delighted.

"Well I can't let you die now can I? What kind of captain or mate would I be if I didn't ensure your living? But, can we still have sex any other time, or is it just the once every seven years thing?"

"Only during the time of Pon Farr is it a necessity. You are taking this seriously correct? We do not typically discuss this with off worlders, yet you have the right to know what is in store. If you were lying in an attempt to simply have more intercourse…"

Jim flinched at the undercurrent of irritation in Spock's voice. "Yes, I'm taking this very seriously. We'll be married in the eyes of the Vulcans. I'm alright with that. Trust me, if I wasn't, I wouldn't be here still. I'm just breaking it down for myself. I like you, you like me, there's something going on here. At some point in the future, you're gonna revert into the primal way Vulcans used to be, and we're gonna have to mate or you die. Then, essentially, we'll be married, bond mates, whatever. That about sum it up?"

"A crude description, yet accurate. You accept the idea of being bond mates with myself? That there is a mental link that will grow with us?" Spock tilted his head to the side, wondering why Jim was looking at him and obviously trying not to laugh.

"You're really quite cute when you're being insecure, has anyone ever told you that?"

"I am not being insecure."

"Yes, you are. But, yeah, I accept that whole thing. Even the mental link. Wait," a look of realization dawned on Jim. "I heard you last night didn't I? When you were asking if I was ok, that was your voice in my head. I wasn't too sure."

Spock rested his hand on Jim's. _Does this answer your question?_

"As a matter of fact, it does. How long have you been able to do that?"

"You recall the time we spent aboard the Narada? During our…escapade, I was able to pick up on the faintest hints of your emotions and plans. I believed it simply to be the effects of close contact and the direness of the situation. Upon further reflection since the events of last night, I have come to the conclusion that it was in actuality the beginnings of a bond. One I had dismissed given that I was linked to Nyota and you and I were still uncertain as to where we stood with one another. It never occurred to me what it meant. It was highly illogical, as well as improbable that there would be such a bond with us given our history."

Jim blinked slowly. "So…you've been able to do that since the Narada, is that what you're saying? You think that was where this all began?" Why Spock had to go into such detail was beyond him.

The Vulcan nodded.

"Alright. That makes sense. Now, that's gonna get stronger?"

"I will teach you how to control it," Spock informed him.

"Good. I don't think you want me broadcasting everything that pops into my head to you," Jim smirked.

Spock reached across the table, laying his fingertips at the appropriate points on Jim's face, starting a mind meld. At once, Jim's mind was filled with images of the previous night, in exquisite detail with sound. Over it all, he heard Spock's voice. _I do not think it is your mind that needs to be worried about_. He released his captain and sat back in his chair, noting with some satisfaction that Jim was flushed and having difficulty speaking. When he was finally able to, his voice cracked, and sounded hoarse.

"Don't I owe you a umm…do you want to go swimming now?"

_A/N: Finally finished. This was, I should mention, my first attempt at detailed smut. I wanted it to be the best I've ever done, and I think it is. But, constructive criticism would be most welcome in regards to the whole chapter. Or, y'know reviews. I dunno. It's late and I'm rambling and still fending off writers' block._


	7. Chapter 7

_A/N: You guys. Seriously, the reviews made me all gleeful. Thanks. _

_I mentioned some conflict coming up, and if all goes as planned, it starts here. If not, then I think the next chapter. _

_Also, whilst I was typing this, I was watching Ace of Cakes, and one cake they were making was a Pinto(the car). Naturally, I thought of Pine and Quinto, and lol'd quite a lot, before sneezing, 'cause I've got the sniffles. But they kept saying Pinto the entire episode and it made me happy^^_

Maybe it was the blue Hawaiian print swim trunks.

Or it may have been the pop music.

Or…and Jim had his suspicions about this one, it may have been that their relationship had just taken a pretty drastic turn from just Captain and First Officer.

But it could have very well been the swim trunks.

Whatever the reason, Spock looked almost uncomfortable as he sat in the passenger seat of the truck. Jim spared him a quick glance as he drove the uneven dirt road to the lake he and his brother had frequented as kids.

* * *

"What's the matter?"

If he hadn't known better, he would've said that Spock jumped.

"There is nothing the matter."

"You're being more quiet than usual, which for you is saying something. C'mon, tell meeeee," Jim wheedled, leaning towards Spock.

"I would appreciate if you kept your eyes on the road Jim."

"Don't evade the question Spock. Or I'll drive us straight into a tree."

Spock allowed himself a tiny sigh. He knew by now that Jim was tenacious, and would not let the matter drop until he had figured what was bothering him and did everything he could to fix it.

"I do not know how to swim."

Jim still almost drove them into a tree. He couldn't help but laugh. "That's all that's bugging you?"

"It is a reasonable problem. Vulcan was a desert planet, and therefore the need to learn never arose."

"What about at Starfleet? Didn't Uhura ever take you to the beach?" Jim asked.

"We were both focused on our studies," Spock replied. "Also, we wished to keep our relationship to ourselves, as some might think it inappropriate due to my being her superior."

"Hmm. Good point," Jim nodded. He wondered absentmindedly if they'd even had 'study dates'. "I know I asked already, but really, what happened between you two? One minute you're making out on the transported pad, the next well…you remember what happened on the couch I'm sure." His smile was positively lewd, before he jerked the wheel, getting them back on the road from where they'd started to drift. "You said that your relationship ran its course, logical conclusion, blah blah blah. But there's no logical course a relationship takes. Not the way I understood it anyway."

"We were not…compatible. As I said, our relationship was more intellectual. It was Nyota who suggested we have a physical relationship as well. It appeared logical at the time. However, as we found out, we make better friends and coworkers."

Jim's lips twisted into a frown. "Spock? Do you think we're compatible?" He kept his eyes on the road; nevertheless Spock could see the minute way his hands tightened on the steering wheel, and the flush that crept up his neck to settle in his cheeks. His tone was almost childlike in its uncertainty. As was often the case in regards to Jim, Spock could feel the corner of his lips involuntarily quirk upward.

"Our…bond…is only hours old Jim. It is still fresh, young. It would be illogical to even hazard a guess," he answered. Jim's expression crumbled around the edges, and Spock pressed on. "Nevertheless, there are indications strongly in our favor. You are the only one to have ever managed to elicit an emotional response from me, be it for good or bad." Instantaneously, Jim's countenance shifted into his usual radiant smile.

"Good."

* * *

A cloud of dust flew up around the truck as Jim parked along the copse of trees surrounding the lake. He had barely pulled the keys out of the ignition before he was jogging towards the bed of the truck where he'd stowed the towels and picnic basket stuffed with peanut butter and banana sandwiches and various fruit juices.

"We've got the place to ourselves apparently," he observed, flinging the rolled up towels over his shoulder and lugging the basket. Spock followed him along the small shoreline until he came to a shady spot, laying out the blankets and setting down the basket. Jim dug through it, coming back with a tube of sun block.

"I know you don't get sunburn, but I do. Would you mind getting my back?" He held out the tube to Spock, who arched an eyebrow at his smirk.

"Are you certain that this is not a poorly veiled attempt at convincing me to engage in some sort of public display of affection?" the Vulcan asked, completely deadpan. Jim gave him wide eyes, the picture of innocence; as though he were shocked that Spock would even suggest that. Spock's eyebrow rose even higher, and Jim laughed.

"You know me too well. But for real Spock, what public? Who's gonna be scandalized if we got a little cozy here? The trees? The sand? Please?" He cocked his head to the side, gazing at Spock through his lashes. "You don't want me to get sunburned do you?"

* * *

Jim gasped, trying not to writhe as Spock's hands slid over his back, kneading the muscles while rubbing the lotion in. Little sparks of pleasure danced along his skin as Spock ground the heel of his palm into the small of his back, what had always been a sensitive spot for him. He arched back, a low groan pulled from his throat, and just as he was really starting to enjoy himself, Spock removed his hands and Jim heard the tube of sun block snap shut.

"I believe you are sufficiently protected from the sun now."

"What?!" Jim rolled over, looking indignantly at his First Officer. "You won't get the rest of me?"

"You asked that I apply the sun block to your back, which I did, using more than half the bottle when you insisted time and again that you could still feel that I had missed a spot. You can apply the rest if you wish."

Glowering, Jim coated his arms, neck and face in sun block until he was sticky and certain he smelled like coconut. He flung the sun block over his shoulder and got to his feet, taking a running leap at the lake and diving in. Spock watched on, mentally counting the seconds until he resurfaced. Because logically, he had to, and yet Jim had a proclivity for unintentionally putting himself in life threatening situations and it was Spock's duty to get him out of them. And, he may have been a tad bit concerned. Having no experience with large bodies of water, he could hardly understand why one would wish to willingly hurl themselves into one relying just on their own skills with the hope that they would be enough.

There was a sudden splash and Jim bobbed to the surface, jetting a small stream of water from his lips before grinning devilishly at Spock.

"You were worried for a second there, weren't you? That you'd have to come get me when you can't swim. Admit it."

"I was not worried," Spock informed him. "I am your first officer, and therefore must do all I can to ensure your safety. Even if it puts my own safety at risk." Not a lie exactly, more an omission.

"But you would've drowned. And really, who does that help? Not me or the rest of the crew. Especially me though. I wouldn't be able to take you to the ocean."

"I would ask when you decided this, but I know that impulsiveness is chief among your character traits," Spock said mildly. Jim swam over to shore, laying down on the sand and looking up at Spock.

"Yeah, I just decided. My mom took me to this beach up in Massachusetts right after I drove the car off the cliff. It was just me and her, I think as a way to try and make up for not being there. Anyway, it was not that long after a hurricane had hit farther south, and the tide was coming in. The waves were enormous and there was a current, so I couldn't swim. But I could sit on the wall along the beach and watch. It was…" he trailed off, his eyes getting a faraway look. "Impressive. Something you've gotta see. So, next shore leave, you and me are going there."

Spock didn't mention that those circumstances, the hurricane and the tide, occurring again had slim odds. He simply couldn't find it in himself to step on Jim's wishes. So, he nodded, and said he'd look forward to that trip.

"You want to come in?" Jim held out his hand. "It's only waist deep, and not that cold. And if you want, I can try and teach you to swim."

"I would not be against you attempting to teach me," Spock responded, and stood up. The water wasn't terribly cold, heated by the sun overhead, but dark shapes flitted in the shadows farther out in the lake. "You are aware that there are fish in there?"

"You're point is?"

"Do you know what fish do in that water they live in? They use the water not only to relieve themselves, but they spawn there."

"You're starting to sound like Bones," Jim snickered.

"Do not be insulting Jim. I am just making certain you are aware of how sanitary the water you are swimming in, that you insist I must swim in, is." Spock was by now up to his ankles, moving up to knee deep in water, hands clasped behind his back. At the rate he was going, it would likely be dusk by the time he was up to his waist.

"Come on then," Jim pulled on Spock's arm, catching him off guard. Spock tumbled, his free arm flying out to grip Jim's shoulder as he fell. Jim caught him under the arms, laughing at the dripping wet Vulcan. "You look a little bit like Pancake when she came in from the storm," he said, grinning broadly. Spock's hair was plastered to his head, and oh, yes, his nostrils were flaring slightly; he was not happy with Jim.

"That was unnecessary," Spock told him, getting unsteadily to his feet. "I would have gotten into the water in my own time." His voice was about as glacial as it got, further proof of how he had _not_ appreciated the sudden dunking.

"I know, I'm sorry," Jim said, hardly sounding sincere. "But, look at it this way, now you don't have to wait to get used to the water." He helped Spock stand up, and took his hand, bringing him out deeper into the water. Weeds clung to them, and fish darted away as they walked. "You know the mechanics of swimming, right?"

Spock nodded, "I understand how it is done." He observed with rapt attention as Jim demonstrated how to simply float on his back to start, his earlier displeasure with him ebbing as he allowed himself to be gently moved until he was floating next to Jim. It wasn't an altogether unpleasant experience, watching the clouds scudding across the sky while the water lapped at his face and Jim lightly intertwined their fingers. The only sound was the steady rush of his own blood in his veins, a calming, reassuring sound, broken only when Jim shifted.

"If you can do this, then you can swim. Swimming is just doing this, but on your stomach and moving your arms and feet." Jim flipped over, and swam circles around his First, diving underwater and doing a handstand. "Give it a try."

* * *

He hovered close by, ready to give Spock a hand should he need it as he lowered himself into the lake. "Ok, now, move your arms and kick your feet at the same time." Spock did so, and after no more than a few minutes instruction, he was swimming, cutting through the water with a grace that Jim envied. He'd always thought of himself as a pretty good swimmer, but Spock…if Jim hadn't known better, he would have thought Spock had been professionally trained all his life.

"Damn Spock. You're like a fish," he propelled himself over. Spock paused to let him catch up, and cast a fleeting look at Jim, his eyebrow curving upward in slight confusion. "No, I'm not implying that you've got scales and gills, and are slimy. I just mean you took to swimming like a natural. You hungry?"

Jim flopped onto the towel, shaking water from his hair. He pulled the picnic basket over, grabbing the juice and sandwiches. He tossed one to Spock, watching peripherally as he pulled the plastic wrap off and took an experimental bite. "It's peanut butter and banana. Made them myself," Jim said proudly.

"They are…very thick," Spock answered, swallowing. He ran his tongue over the roof of his mouth in a vain attempt to get the remaining paste like mass off. "Is it entirely safe to eat something one could choke on?"

"Nah, but it tastes good. Usually, you gotta drink milk to combat how sticky it is. But that would just go bad out here. Juice works, but not as good as milk," Jim shrugged, taking a large bite of his own sandwich and forcing it down. "I could get it off though," he suggested, the corners of his lips turning up.

"Is this another of your attempts to engage in a public display of affection?"

"That depends; is it working?" Jim asked, leaning back on his elbows. Spock gave the impression of thinking a moment, before nodding.

"Yes, it is working."

* * *

The words had hardly left Spock's mouth and Jim was above him, holding himself up with one hand on either side of Spock's shoulders. He leaned down, bringing their lips together and running his tongue along Spock's lips. Spock opened his mouth, allowing Jim in, his eyes closing as Jim slid his tongue along the roof of his mouth. His arms, which had been lying passively across his chest, rose up to wrap around Jim and pull him closer. He dug his fingers through Jim's hair, drawing a groan from him. Jim started to move down the Vulcan's smooth neck, nibbling and licking at the skin, pulling it between his teeth until dark green bruises blossomed and Spock's fingers tightened almost painfully in his hair. His lips ghosted over Spock's shoulder just as something crashed through the trees beyond the truck.

"Hey! Lookit! It's Captain Kirk and Mister Spock!"

Jim toppled off of Spock just as Baxter, Aimi, and Addy careened around the truck in their direction. They were in their bathing suits, and grinning with wide eyed admiration bordering on worship at the pair sprawled on the sand.

"Whatcha doing?" Baxter asked, plopping himself next to Jim. The twins sat near Spock, looking at him bashfully. Spock arched his eyebrow, sending them into a fit of giggles. Jim smirked, before turning to the boy gazing at him rapturously.

"I promised Mr. Spock I'd take him swimming when the rain was gone. What about you three?"

"We're swimming too," Baxter said.

"Are your parents not with you?" Spock queried.

"Nope," Aimi and Addy answered together. "They say we're big enough to swim on our own. We've been swimming since we were little. Well, littler than we are now."

Jim could tell from the look on Spock's face that he hardly approved of the kids being allowed out on their own. But he'd been on his own sometimes at that age, and he liked to think he turned out ok. The kids didn't sit still long, no matter how much they enjoyed hanging out with Spock and Jim, and soon they were shrieking with laughter as they splashed and dove in the water. Jim leaned back, pillowing his head on Spock's thigh, wishing, perhaps a little selfishly, that Baxter, Aimi, and Addy hadn't shown up. He had been enjoying himself, as had Spock.

"Aren't you guys comin' in?" Baxter called.

"We've already been swimming. Now, we're enjoying the weather. The end of this week is when we go back to Starfleet and back to the Enterprise," Jim answered without opening his eyes.

"The children appear rather put out by that Jim," Spock said quietly. Jim opened one eye and saw Baxter looking stricken while the twins looked to be on the verge of actual tears, lower lips trembling and everything.

"But you can't leave!" Addy wailed. "We'll miss you!"

"We have to," Spock told her. "It is our job to continue on our five year mission."

"Will you come back next shore leave?" Aimi pleaded.

Jim grimaced; he couldn't stand it when girls, no matter how old, cried. It didn't feel like fair play. "We'll see. But we can't make any promises." That placated the three, and they returned to their swimming. However, when they saw that Jim and Spock were preparing to leave, they surged onto land, the twins latching onto Spock while Baxter shook Jim's hand, looking so solemn as he tried to be grown up that Jim had to laugh. He convinced his sisters to release Spock, which they did tearfully, and waved as he and Jim gathered their belongings and got into the truck.

* * *

"Those girls like you so much!" Jim smirked. "It's adorable really. They don't want you to go."

"No, they do not. I will admit it is...endearing, their attachment. The boy looks up to you."

"Oh yeah, definitely. They're cute kids."

"Despite the fact they interrupted us," Spock commented.

"Could've done without that," Jim agreed. "But they're still cute. Baxter reminds me of me when I was that young."

"Let us hope then he does not get it into his head to drive cars off cliffs," Spock said, with the barest suggestion of a grin on his lips.

"One time," Jim muttered, shaking his head. "You do that one time and no one lets you forget."

* * *

Another car sat in the driveway when they arrived back at the farm house.

"Oh crap," Jim swore.

"What?"

The door swung open at the sound of the truck pulling in, and a woman stepped out, her face lighting up at the sight of them.

"Jimmy!"

"My mom."

Jim found himself smothered in his mom's grip as she hugged him. Spock watched the display, with something like amusement and wistfulness shining in his eyes for only Jim to see. Jim shrugged at him around his mom, gently disentangling her from around him.

"Hi mom. You're home early," he said, stepping back.

"Well I had to see you, didn't I?" Winona Kirk looked up at her son, beaming at him. Spock noted that it was rather similar to Jim's smile, if a little softer.

"Of course. Is Frank around?" Jim asked, and his jaw clenched infinitesimally at the name.

"No, no, he went out almost as soon as we got home."

Jim sighed, his shoulders sagging with relief. He glanced over at Spock, motioning him over. "Spock, this is my mom. Mom, this is Spock, my first officer. Best one I've ever had actually."

"I am the only one you have ever had Jim."

"Can't you just take the compliment?" Jim rolled his eyes at his mom, who grinned.

"Pleased to meet you Mr. Spock. And please, call me Winona." She led them inside, offering to make lunch.

* * *

"It's ok mom, we had sandwiches down at the lake. I think we'll go change now though," Jim answered, tugging Spock upstairs and into his room. He threw himself onto his bed, covering his face with his hands. "At least Frank's not here," he murmured, sitting up. "You can sit down," he added to Spock, who was still standing by the bed.

"I am still dripping wet. I would not want my bathing suit to soak your bed," Spock answered.

"You are not still dripping. I can see."

Spock reached down, gripped the hem of the swim trunks, and squeezed. A steady stream of water pattered onto the floor, splashing his feet.

"Fine, go change. I'll change. But come back, ok? I don't want to sit here by myself until dinner. Bring the chess board, we haven't played in a couple days."

The door shut behind Spock, leaving Jim to shed his swim trunks and hang them to dry on the windowsill. He tugged on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, plopping onto his bed to wait. A soft knock came moments later, followed by Spock peering around the door, the chess board under his arm. He joined Jim on the bed, setting the board between them and arranging the pieces. They played for hours until Winona called up that it was dinner.

* * *

"I won," Jim insisted.

"No, you cheated. As you have the habit of doing," Spock replied evenly.

"Cheating is such a negative word. I prefer creative problem solving. It sounds more upbeat and intelligent," Jim said flippantly. His fingers brushed against Spock's as they walked downstairs. "And by the way, I'm taking you out tonight."

"It is not another of the bars you frequented in your youth is it?"

"No, no I wouldn't do that to you again. Think of this as…a date." Jim's gaze traveled up and down Spock. "I'd dress warmly though. I know you don't like the cold much."

"Where are you-''

"If I wanted you to know, I'd tell you. Clearly. Now come on, dinner time. I just hope mom thought to make yours vegetarian. Hey mom!" Jim bounded ahead of Spock into the kitchen, leaving Spock to trail after him, unable to quell the small spurt of excitement that had risen at the prospect of a date. Although logically, it was possible that was simply Jim's own exhilaration lingering from the prolonged contact of their hands.

A small voice in the back of his mind told him that was highly unlikely. What was even more disconcerting was that small voice had the same cocky tone as a certain captain who was assuring that his meal had been made properly.

_A/N: *sigh* finally finished. I started college today, and it was a long day. I ended up 20 minutes late to my very first class, and had to walk all the way across the campus to get there. I strained muscles I didn't even know I had in my legs. _

_I'm hoping that I'll be able to keep up the updates, because in the next chapter is where that whole badness conflict stuff starts. Yeah, first a happy, fluffy date thing, and then it goes to hell in hand basket. I'm like that; build'em up and tear'em down so they can get built up again. It works. Anyways, reviews or stuff? _


	8. Chapter 8

_A/N: So, conflict. It happens here. There's of course going to be some with Frank. That's a given. But there's also more. Much more. Bigger stuff. And no, I won't be telling you here. You'll have to read for that. _

_Also, someone mentioned hockey as the date. Well, no, it's not. However, hockey is my all time favorite sport in the world, so in honor of that good idea, I shall be working it in to the chapter. Mostly just because I adore the idea of Jim and Spock at the game. I may even draw it; I need to bone up on my drawing skills. And just go with me on the idea that they still have the same hockey teams in the future as they do now and that even though it's late summer, there's actually hockey games broadcast. It makes my life easier._

He was _**not**_ disappointed.

To say he was disappointed would be to suggest that he first felt excitement, and while he was not averse to an evening spent in Jim's company, he had mostcertainly_** not**_ _**felt**_ excitement. No, to imply such a thing was completely illogical. Completely.

He merely wished Jim had not slammed the door to his room so close to his face. The tip of his nose still smarted, and if he crossed his eyes and looked at it, he could see it was tinged green. Spock rubbed his nose slightly as he walked down the hall, intuiting that should Jim wish his company later he knew where to find him, and for now he would do best to leave him in peace.

It wasn't as though Jim didn't deserve time to himself, after the dinner they had endured. Had their positions been reversed, he would have requested alone time. Although, his request would have been more…decorous and less like that of a petulant child. However, that was Jim's personality and while of late he had shown that he could think and act like a responsible adult, one could hardly expect the change to occur over night.

* * *

Saying that dinner had not gone well was something of an understatement. The elusive Frank had made his appearance, sitting at one end of the table with Mrs. Kirk, who insisted still upon being called Winona on one side and Jim on the other. Jim seemed determined to keep his step-father as far from Spock as possible, and Spock was inclined to agree, despite having barely met the man. Something about Frank didn't settle right with him, and his discomfort only grew throughout the meal.

"To my knowledge, you only ever came home with bed warmers, or cops," Frank began, aiming his words at Jim. "He doesn't look like a cop." He flicked his gaze up at Spock, sizing him up and silently asking just who he was.

"He happens to be the best first officer a captain could ask for," Jim ground out, his jaw clenched. He did not want to be having this conversation, that much was clear. It wasn't that he was embarrassed to be dating Spock, it was more he didn't want to hear Frank's opinion of it, which no doubt would be less than pleasant. His step-father unfortunately didn't let him down in that respect.

"Wonder how he got that position," Frank muttered callously, his voice full of hints and suggestions. From the corner of his eye, Spock could see Jim's grip on his fork tightened, and the color rising up his neck to settle in his cheeks. He was thankful that the link between them was still tenuous, as he had no desire to be overcome by the anger and indignation that Jim was so clearly trying to master. He had a moment to wonder if Jim would be stupidly noble in defending him once more, before Jim was closing his eyes and breathing deep, controlling himself. When he finally found his voice, he sounded almost pleasant, as though Frank hadn't just suggested that his boyfriend had gained the position of first officer through degrading and illicit means.

"Well, Frank, he got the position by being Starfleet's most decorated graduate and being willing to sacrifice himself to save Earth so you can sit on the couch and drink every single night, instead of being blown up by a time traveling, pissed off Romulan." There was an air of smugness about him as he returned to his meal, stifling a smirk. He glanced briefly at Spock, noting that there was definite admiration and gratitude in his dark brown eyes. He shrugged slightly; he would have done the same even if they hadn't been dating because no one, not even family, messed with his crew, especially his first officer. That was his job.

Frank was still half in shock by the time Jim helped his mom clear the table and went rummaging in the freezer for dessert.

* * *

"You bought popsicles!" he exclaimed, ripping open the package and helping himself to a red one.

"Jimmy really, how old are you?" Winona laughed as he slurped the flavored ice, his lips stained red.

"I'm twelve," he replied, leaning against the counter. "You want a popsicle Spock?" Jim tossed him one without waiting for a reply, a blue raspberry flavored one. He watched as Spock peeled back the wrapper and gave an experimental lick, his tongue nearly freezing to it.

"I do not understand why you would desire to eat something you could get your tongue stuck to," Spock answered in between licks as his treat melted.

"Because it tastes good and it's something cool to eat when it's hot out."

"But it is melting down my arm and sticking," Spock said, and if it had been anyone other than Spock, Jim would have sworn he was whining. But, he knew how fastidious the Vulcan could be about keeping his sensitive hands clean. He was trying vainly to catch the neon blue rivulets from sliding to his elbow with minimal success, and giving Jim wicked ideas.

Before Spock could react, Jim wrapped his hand around his wrist and licked a long, slow, wet line from his forearm up to his palm. He paid particular attention to the wide blue patch on the Vulcan's slender wrist, laving his tongue over it and feeling his pulse quicken under his lips. Spock's eyes were wide and his lips parted before he got control of his face as Jim let him go and stepped back with an air of haughty satisfaction.

"Is my tongue purple now?" Jim asked, sticking out his tongue while watching Spock try to regain his composure. He tried to cross his eyes and look at his own tongue, but was unable to see if it had become purple.

"Is that all you wished to accomplish? Changing the color of your tongue?"

"Well, that and I like making you squirm. Seeing as I can't exactly have my way with you with my mom right out there, that was the next best thing. But c'mon, is my tongue purple or not?"

Spock let out the most minuscule of sighs, hardly a sigh at all really. "Yes Jim, while your lips remain red, your tongue is purple. As I am certain mine is blue."

"So are your lips and teeth. Like you've got hypothermia…or asphyxiation," Jim ducked his head, putting on his best charming smile and looking up through his lashes. "Would you like your tongue to be purple too Spock?"

"This is your third attempt to convince me to engage in a public or semi public display of affection, again with rather lack luster 'pick up lines' as I believe they are called."

"They work don't they?" Jim crossed his arms, a smirk tugging at his lips. "Whether they're lack luster or not. What does that say about you, Mr. Spock?" The smirk finally bloomed across his face, as Spock blinked. "Yeah, exactly. I win. Check mate."

"At least you used a chess term in the correct context."

* * *

Whatever Jim might have said in response was drowned out by an explosion of music and cheering from the living room. Jim stiffened, his head cocked to the side. He knew that sound, but no, it couldn't be. "Hockey?"

"What is hockey?" Spock queried, his brows drawing together at the look of excitement on Jim's face.

"Only my favorite sport ever," Jim said by way of response, which really wasn't much of an answer at all. He slipped his still slightly sticky hand into Spock's, causing the Vulcan to grimace slightly, and dragged him into the living room. He slid to the floor in front of the couch, Spock taking a seat behind him and making room for him to lean against his legs. Jim glanced behind him, more than a little surprised that Spock would willingly let him lounge against him like that. Of course, Spock's face betrayed nothing, other than his gaze flicking towards Frank, who was watching surreptitiously. Jim grinned faintly and settled back against his legs more.

"So who's playing?" he asked non-chalantly.

"Yours against mine," Frank replied.

"Bruins against the Penguins then. The B's are gonna win, I hope you know."

"Keep dreaming boy. Your team's going to lose, like they always do."

"I do not understand, what is hockey?" Spock asked once more.

"Just watch," Jim answered, eyes glued to the screen. The teams skated out onto the ice, one in black and gold jerseys, and the other in white. "The ones in black are the Boston Bruins, the others are the Pittsburgh Penguins. The B's are my favorite team. Don't know why, they just are. Now watch."

Spock watched, eyebrow arching at the complete…carnage taking place. And the fans in the stands were cheering it on; they loved it. As did Jim; he had inched forward, and was urging the players in black onward, to 'check' the 'bastards' and 'get it in the damned net!'. Frank, on the other hand, was perched on the edge of the recliner, doing the same but for the Penguins. Spock looked between them, wondering why they would be enjoying watching the blood bouncing on the ice, and the fists flying. The illogic of it however, did not stop him from perceiving the barely subtle jibes that were sliding from Frank to Jim and back. Comments about himself, about Jim as a captain, about the both of them, about Jim's past. For a moment he entertained the idea of nerve pinching Frank, but he doubted Winona would appreciate it, no matter how much Jim would. And Jim most assuredly would appreciate a cease to Frank's incessant insults. Spock didn't have to be a touch telepath to see that Jim was just this side of his breaking point. Fortunately, the buzzer for the game sounded. Unfortunately, the score was in the Penguins' favor, which did nothing to improve Jim's mood, and sent him fuming to his room. Which left Spock where he had been, the door slammed in his face and his nose still stinging.

* * *

Pancake meowed thinly at him from his bed. The moment he sat down, she settled in his lap, purring in contentment. Spock scratched under her chin, and she blinked her greenish yellow eyes up at him, whiskers twitching.

"You are not going to slam a door in my face and cancel plans with me are you?" he asked. Pancake butted her head against his neck before giving his nose a tiny, sand papery lick.

"I did not think so."

* * *

In the dead of night, a top floor window in the back of the farm house slid open. Not unusual in and of itself, as the room it opened to was warm, and there was a cool breeze that night. What was unusual was the shadow that slunk over the windowsill and along the side of the house, stopping at a window further down and lifting it open with the utmost care so it made no sound, before climbing inside.

Jim dropped noiselessly to the floor of Spock's room, and crept close to the bed. He had always figured Spock would sleep as ramrod straight as he stood, on his back with his hands laying lightly on the blankets that were drawn up just so over his chest. Not a single black hair would be out of place, nor would there be a wrinkle in the blankets. What Jim found was Spock on his chest, left hand thrust up under the pillows, the right curled slightly in front of his mouth. His hair was sticking up where his head lay on the pillow, turned towards the window so moonlight cut a wide swath across his face and his lashes left charcoal shadows on his cheeks. Pancake was coiled in a ball on his back, her tail flicking sporadically.

Unable to stop the affectionate smile that pulled at his lips, Jim reached out to run his fingers through Spock's hair. Far too fast for him to see, Spock's hand snapped out and closed around his wrist, his grip tightening before he'd even opened his eyes. Jim swallowed past his pulse, not even about to try and break the steely grip on his wrist. All he could hope for was that Spock would wake before he ground the bones to dust.

"I would advise, in the future, against attempting to touch me in my sleep again without warning," Spock said, releasing Jim as he rolled over, causing Pancake to chirrup in complaint. He sat up as though he had been awake the entire time, smoothing his hair into place and fixing his captain with a curious stare.

"I got that from your little ninja act," Jim massaged his wrist, where a bruise was already coming to the surface. "Anyway, get up and get changed. We're going out now."

"Jim, it is night time. The time most people are asleep. As I was, and as you should be."

"You should know by now, I'm not most people Spock. So come on, up, dressed and follow me."

"Very well," Spock swung his legs over the side of his bed and went for the pair of jeans he had been wearing earlier, adding to that the same warm sweater he had worn the day he declined admission to the Vulcan Science Academy. Jim had allowed him some privacy, turning to face the window while he changed, and Spock tapped him on the shoulder to let him know he could turn back. "Where are we going? You said it was not like the club."

"It's nowhere near the club," Jim informed him. "You really didn't like that, did you?"

Spock shook his head. "It was not only the people being far too close for comfort, and the woman invading my space, but that I do not know how to dance, not the way they were." He watched as Jim climbed out the window, disappearing up on the roof. A second later he reappeared, hanging upside down and beaming at Spock while his face steadily turned red.

"Yeah, I didn't myself, at one point. But this kid I was seeing…well, not seeing per se, it was more a friends with benefits thing, when we were bored…anyway, he liked to go to the clubs. He'd drive to the next state if he had to, and he took me when he didn't have a date, even though I was barely old enough. He told me club dancing's basically just having sex standing up with your clothes on. You press as close as you can to your boy friend, girl friend, whatever, and go. Or, if you're by yourself, you show off how good you'd be in bed to attract someone's eye. Since then, whenever I hit the clubs, I think of that and I feel pretty comfortable dancing."

"I see." Even though it was dark and he couldn't see, Jim could hear the eyebrow rise in Spock's tone. "That aside, is there a particular reason you are upside down on the roof right now?"

Jim pulled back, holding out his hand. "Take my hand and I'll pull you up."

* * *

Through much maneuvering and muffled cursing and scraping along the shingles, Jim pulled Spock to the roof and over to the blanket he had laid out. "Come on," he sat down and motioned for Spock to do the same. "Look up."

The sky was alight with stars, almost giving the feeling of being back on board _the_ _Enterprise_, on the bridge and looking out the view screen.

"I bet you thought I'd broken off date night because of Frank, didn't you?"

"Given that you slammed the door in my face, bruising my nose, I assumed that you were choosing to remain in your room rather than go out."

"I'm sorry," Jim winced. "Is your nose ok?"

"I will be fine."

"Are you sure? I could kiss it better if you want," Jim chuckled at the look on Spock's face when he half turned to face him. "I'll take that as a no then."

They fell silent, Jim stretching out on the blanket, pillowing his head on Spock's thigh.

"Do you often bring your dates up to look at the stars?"

Jim tilted his head back to look at Spock. The Vulcan was gazing straight ahead, not at him. "Nope. Just you. Y'see, it occurs to me that maybe, just maybe, I was being sort of…insensitive earlier, when all I was thinking about was the sex, and you were trying to see if I really cared and explain stuff to me. So besides being a date, consider this me making that up to you. Thought you'd like it, the stars and all," he gestured vaguely to the sky. "Do you?"

Spock nodded. "It is peaceful here, and the company is…adequate."

"Adequate? Just adequate?" Jim craned his neck to see Spock, and saw what passed for a smile for his first officer, and suspected that he was quite possibly being teased. "Pointy eared hobgoblin. I'm more than adequate company."

"I believe the phrase is 'just keep telling yourself that'."

"You're being illogically mean to me."

"And yet you are the one wanting to be with only me," Spock rejoined. Unspoken was the 'Who's being illogical now?' followed by perhaps, were Spock a different sort of person, the sticking out of his tongue. Jim sat up, opening and closing his mouth in near shock as he tried to figure out what to say. "As you said earlier, check mate Jim."

"I'm not being illogical," Jim grumbled only a trace sulky, "I'm perfectly capable of monogamy. I'll have you know, when we were at the club, I was sideswiped by the girl I'd been in love with at school. I'd have given my arm for her to even notice me. I won't tell you what I'd have given for her to go out with me. And I brushed her aside to find you and help you out with the other girl. I was worried about you being by yourself." He sat up and moved so he was sitting cross legged in front of Spock, who also drew up his legs, mirroring him. Spock gazed at him, immobile as a marble statue, the only sign of life his eyebrow canting upward just so. Jim frowned.

"Don't give me that look Spock. I _was_ worried."

Spock's eyebrow went up even higher, the angle sharper.

"Fine, and jealous. Only a little. A tiny bit. But, seriously, did you see her? She was all over you. Even if I wasn't interested in you, it would upset me, because she was only interested in you 'cause you saved the world and your ears are pointy."

"I still fail to see the attraction of my ears," Spock murmured.

"They're cute, trust me. And I don't usually say things are cute. I make an exception only for your ears and Chekov."

"Ensign Chekov?"

"He's adorable. It's physically impossible for him to be anything but that. Unfortunately, you look up the word 'jailbait' in the dictionary and his picture is next to it in living color. Also the words 'property of Hikaru Sulu' have been carved by fencing foil underneath." He looked at Spock, who had what passed for his thoughtful look on his face. "You do know what jailbait is don't you?"

"I do. I also know what you mean by the ensign being the property of Lt. Sulu. I am merely curious as to whether they have waited until Chekov is of age before engaging in an intimate relationship."

"Oh…ew! No, no, must not-damn it Spock! I did not need that mental image," Jim grimaced. "I had a point, but now…" he shook his head furiously. "I'm sure they did. Pavel did turn eighteen recently, and Sulu's a good guy, I trust him with our whiz kid. But never, ever make mention of them having an intimate relationship again. I don't need that floating around my brain. I mean, a good captain shouldn't be thinking about what his helmsman and navigator are getting up to off shift, right? Can I get back to the point I was making now?"

Spock nodded, leaning back on his elbows and unfolding his legs slightly.

"Thanks. Where was I? Monogamy and everything, right. So, there's also the mind meld with the older you, and what he and the other me had," Jim continued, ticking off his points on his fingers.

Again, Spock interrupted. "I was under the impression that was merely speculation on your part, that all you received were hints, but-''

"But nothing Spock!" Jim cut in. "You said yourself that a relationship could transcend time possibly. Besides, you, this time line you, weren't there. You didn't…" he paused, thinking how best to put into words what he'd felt from the other Vulcan on Delta Vega. Unable to, he growled in frustration and grabbed Spock's hand, placing it at his temple. "Just look for yourself, you'll see what I mean."

"Jim…I do not think that wise. It is a highly intimate act, a mind meld, and…" Spock trailed off as Jim nuzzled against his fingers, allowing Spock to catch a glimpse of the trust that had grown in the captain, as well as the understanding of just what he was asking. He knew what mind melds meant to Vulcans, to Spock, but that it was the only way he'd ever be able to convey his thoughts clearly. So, against his better judgment, Spock placed his fingers at the appropriate spots on Jim's face, and initiated the mind meld.

* * *

At once, he was swept into a myriad of sights, sounds, and thoughts not his own, but which he seemed to have a starring role, as it were. He saw himself and Jim at their podiums before the Starfleet council, at the Kobyashi Maru hearing where they had first met, the entire scene tinged with the mounting aggravation Jim had felt. Seconds later the scene dissolved and changed into the lengths Jim and McCoy had gone through to smuggle Jim onto the Enterprise, how close they had come to being caught by Spock.

The scenes slid by one after another in swift succession until they stopped at Delta Vega. Spock observed as Jim met his elder self, disbelieving at first but coming to grips with it as they talked. He witnessed the mind meld between them, and that was it. He understood now what Jim had been attempting to articulate. Woven in among the information Spock Prime had been sharing with Jim was warm affection towards him that spoke of a relationship spanning a lifetime with the Kirk of his time; a relationship built on unconditional faith in each other, of hours spent conversing over chess. The affection was tinged with sadness, as it became apparent that the other Kirk had passed on, and even though it had been years, Spock Prime still mourned his death, making it even more evident what each had meant to the other.

Spock terminated the mind meld before he once again saw the beating he gave Jim or the confrontation that brought it about. Jim sagged forward, and only Spock's hand on his shoulder kept him from falling completely. He shook his head in an attempt to orientate himself and sat up, facing Spock once more.

* * *

"Do you get it now?"

"Yes, I understand, despite the fact that they had years to build up such a relationship, while we had only months to get to a point where we did not actively try to cause each other harm in some form or another. It is a bond, a friendship if you prefer, that would appear destined to happen no matter the timeline or universe."

Jim sniffed, "That was beautiful Spock." He grinned lazily at the Vulcan, who allowed himself a very small shake of his head. Jim chuckled and lay down next to Spock, his arms folded behind his head. After a time, he spoke once more, breaking the less strained silence that had fallen between them.

"I think he's lonely. The other you. And sad."

"Why is that?" Spock asked, not even disputing the illogic of the Elder Spock feeling loneliness or sadness.

"Well, let's say he and the other Jim Kirk were bondmates or…umm…" he paused, trying to think of the word. He could have sworn Spock had taught it to him…

"T'hy'la," Spock supplied quietly.

"Right! T'hy'la! That's it; friends, brothers, lovers," Jim recited, flashing a wide smile at Spock, radiating pride for at least recalling the definition, if not the word. "So, hypothetically or not, whichever, let's say it happened. They were happy together, but of course Spock Prime lived longer, and had to deal with his Jim Kirk dying. And then, he's shot through time, there's the whole Narada incident, and then he meets me, and I'm like his Kirk, but not the same. I'm younger and don't remember him and that had to hurt as bad as when his Kirk died. He didn't show it of course, but it had to suck majorly. And…and then we weren't friends, barely even coworkers and…I feel bad for him." He glanced towards Spock, frowning.

"That is a…reasonable explanation."

"You were going to say logical, weren't you?"

"I merely paused to gather my thoughts and think over what you had said."

"Suuure. Just keep telling yourself that Spock," Jim replied mockingly. He suddenly felt a sharp throbbing pain in his ear, and yelped, clapping a hand over it. Spock had flicked him in the ear for impertinence. "I can't believe you just flicked me in the ear! My mom never even did anything like that!"

"Perhaps it will stop you from feeding me my own words again Jim."

"You know they tasted good," Jim retorted, licking his lips salaciously while smirking. "If it's me feeding'em to you."

"Must everything become an innuendo?"

"I'm sorry, it's late and I'm a little unstable." Jim lolled back on the blanket, raising his index finger to the sky.

"What are you doing?"

"Here, lay down," Jim eased Spock down next to him. "Look," he traced the stars, connecting the dots. "It's a bunny."

Spock's brows drew together as he tried to see the shape. "I do not…" He stopped as Jim grasped his hand, extending his index finger as well and leading him through tracing the lines he saw.

"Ok, try this one. This one is…" Jim laughed. "It looks like an elephant doing a hand stand while wearing a tutu."

"Where are you…oh. I see now," Spock drew his arm down but left his hand in Jim's. "Fascinating."

"I take it then you've never lain outside and looked for shapes in the clouds either."

Spock shook his head, "There were not that many clouds on Vulcan to look at. Rain was minimal. Besides, I was busy with studies."

"I thought you were a genius, doesn't that cut you some slack as far as studying goes?" Jim rolled his eyes over to glance at Spock from his peripheral vision.

"There was always more to learn," Spock answered, as though it were obvious. Jim snorted.

"Not the way I understood it. I already knew what they were trying to teach me, so I didn't have to sit there and be bored. Which lead to me being a pro at cloud watching."

"Quite an achievement," Spock murmured, sounding almost sleepy as Jim rubbed his thumb across the back of the Vulcan's knuckles.

"Want to go to bed?"

"Yes, provided Pancake has not shredded the sheets or used them as a litter box in her annoyance at me for moving her."

"If it is, we'll just go to my bed."

"We, Jim?"

"Yes we. We're just going to sleep. Not like we'll be having crazy hot sex against the wall while my mom is down the hall. That's just weird on more levels than I care to contemplate. Plus, you're warm," Jim snuggled momentarily against Spock before getting to his feet and pulling him with him.

* * *

With more squirming and contorting than was pretty, they managed to get through the window and drop to the floor in an unceremonious, groaning heap. Pancake glared at them from the bed, which was untouched as far as scratches or "presents" was concerned. She leapt down and turned her back on them.

"I think she's a little pissed," Jim chuckled, pulling his shoes off, which were quickly followed by his jeans.

"As you have said, she will get over it. She has become attached to me, and will no doubt soon be begging for attention." _Rather like you_, he added in his head. He folded his jeans and shirt and placed them on the floor next to Jim's. Jim was already burrowing under the sheets, and curled around him once he slid in next to him. Spock hesitated a moment, unsure where he should place his arms. One of Jim's was wrapped loosely around him, the other shoved under the pillows and he had slightly entwined their legs.

"You could just copy me, that might work," Jim suggested. Spock, after a moment, did so, and Jim pulled him closer while simultaneously sliding lower down the bed so he could lay his cheek on Spock's chest where his heart would be were he human. He mumbled a good night, grinning slightly as Spock responded and he could feel his voice rumble in his chest.

Just before they fell asleep, Pancake jumped up and settled in the hollow formed between them, curling into a little ball and purring.

"If you say I told you so I'm going to kick you," Jim whispered.

"I was not going to."

"You were thinking it."

"I would prefer if you stayed out of my thoughts."

Before Jim could answer, Pancake flexed her paw, and her claws just barely dug into the flesh of his bicep.

"I believe she would prefer we go to sleep."

"I will, but only because I'm tired, and not because of the cat."

"Of course Jim. Good night."

_A/N: so, I cannot believe how long this took me to write. It's not even like college is that bad right now. It's everything else I think. Long story short, got a job, was not for me at all, quit but it took more effort than it should have. However, I did get a car, a 2001 red VW Beetle. I named it Katzchen, which is German for Kitten. I just gotta learn how to drive it, 'cause it's a stick shift. Now for the related anecdotes that I always seem to have._

_Recently, my sis joined band. I mentioned how I played saxophone. Which apparently came out as Zachsophone to my dad. He still doesn't know why I snickered like a fool._

_Also, I was watching a little bit of that new Melrose Place, not paying too much attention. I heard one girl talking to some guy saying "I'll get you a client bigger than Zach Quinto's eyebrows." At the same time the guy and me both said "I don't think that's possible." Cue the lolz. _

_Anyways, sorry for the wait. Won't happen again, I hope._

_Oh, and the Bruins are my all time fave hockey team, and I loathe the Penguins. No offense to anyone who lives in Pittsburgh, it's just, that team had Ulf Sammuelson, and he's the one that injured my favorite Bruins player Cam Neely so bad he had to retire. I've actually got family in Pittsburgh, so…just the team I'm not a fan of._


	9. Chapter 9

_A/N: so, in this chapter, this is where the action-y bit picks up. As in the big main plot, besides the adorable Kirk and Spock goodness. Now, I'm still kinda working on it in my head, and I've also got a fuck load of essays for my classes, but I'm gonna do my best to keep this going. So…enjoy._

It might not have been the Enterprise, but still, Jim enjoyed crawling under the body of the truck and tuning up the engine, the feel of the concrete beneath his back, the faint smell of oil and gasoline…

"Jimmy! Breakfast!"

*THUNK!*

The feel of his head hitting the underside of the truck as he jerked up when his mom called for breakfast. And the oh so pleasing way his voice echoed in the garage when he swore violently, rubbing his forehead. He shimmied out from underneath, wiping his greasy hands on a spare rag. As he passed the tool box, he chucked the wrench at it and went inside.

"Jimmy, what happened?" Winona stretched up, pressing her fingers lightly to the purple lump forming on his head.

"It's fine mom, just whacked my head under the truck," Jim gently pushed her hands away. "Where's Spock?"

"He's upstairs. I don't think he's still sleeping, I heard the shower running. But he hasn't come out of the bedroom."

"Really? Well that's weird, even for him," Jim glanced up the stairs. "Wonder if something's up?"

Winona smiled slightly at her son's concern for Spock. She had finally asked him what was between them, after Frank had gone to work, as she got that impression, but wanted to hear it from him. He had ducked his head, grinning.

"Yeah, we are. In a really weird way that totally works for us."

"Exclusively?" As much as she loved her son, Winona was no fool, and knew about his philandering.

"Yes mom. I'll have you know, I hadn't had a date since before the whole Narada incident. And, you remember that one girl who sicced her brother on me? Well, I brushed right past her to find Spock 'cause I was worried about him. So, yeah, we're dating, exclusively on a long term basis. Maybe even permanent. There's the whole bonding thing…I dunno, he explained it somewhat but…he makes things sound more complicated than they are. I just say we're dating."

* * *

She had been a bit confused at that, but let it go. He looked happy, and, though her knowledge of Vulcans wasn't that expansive, she would say Spock seemed happy as well with the arrangement. She hadn't missed the way he followed Jim with his gaze, and the way that occasionally, their fingers would touch after he initiated it. But he was so stiff, communicating more with just one eyebrow twitch that only Jim seemed capable of deciphering, where Jim was exuberant and talkative that she had trouble wrapping her head around the pair of them at first. After a few days however, of watching them, she had to believe the old adage of opposites attract. Whatever it was they had, they made it work, and she was happy that her Jimmy was happy. Also, that she was no longer getting calls from the fathers of girls that Jim had…gotten acquainted with.

Jim bounded up the stairs, going into Spock's room without knocking. What he found was one of the last things he expected to see.

"Spock? Why don't you have pants on?"

* * *

Indeed, Spock was sitting on the edge of the bed with just his t-shirt and underwear on. The pants Jim had loaned him were in a heap in the corner, looking for all the world as though they had been thrown there in a fit of temper. But no, Spock didn't have fits of temper at anything that wasn't Jim Kirk shaped.

"Your mother took all the other pants I had, including my Starfleet issued ones, and put them in the wash. That is the only pair I have left and they are unacceptable."

"Uh-huh. How so?" Jim took Spock's vacated seat as he fetched the pants and tugged them on. Ok, yeah, he could see where Spock would have a problem with them. The jeans hung very low on his hips, showing off his hip bones and framing his backside to perfection. But after that, they became baggy and loose, covering Spock's feet to the point where it was likely that even he would have difficulty walking in them without tripping. But still…Jim had to admire the view from behind.

"You are staring."

Jim shook his head, snapping himself out of his daze. "Was I? Sorry, but damn Spock, do you have any idea how good those look on you?"

"I fail to see why that matters," Spock crossed his arms over his chest, gazing down at Jim. "It is impractical to wear something that one can barely move in simply because they 'look good' on them."

"What about corsets for women? They were impractical, dangerous even, but still, it was the fashion and if you didn't wear them, you were considered less."

Spock could admit that Jim did have a point, even though it was so very…well, _Jim_ of him to counter with something that's sole purpose had been to draw the eye to the breasts and waist.

"That's as may be, but I have already attempted to walk in these pants, and tripped and hit my knee," he sat down next to Jim, rolling up his pants leg to display the dark green bruise on his knee.

"Poor bunny," Jim rested his chin on Spock's shoulder, looking down at the bruise. From the corner of his eye he saw the eyebrow go up.

"Bunny? I am _not_ a rabbit Jim."

"Duh, I'm not a complete idiot, though Bones would beg to differ. No, I mean, when you get all frustrated and annoyed, usually with me which is how I noticed it, your nose flares and you kinda look like a pissed off rabbit. Like you are now, because of the pants. It's the only way I know you're starting to get fed up, and then, depending on my mood, I back off." Jim could practically hear the gears going in Spock's mind as he mulled that over. "But, just so you know, _I'm_ the only one who'll ever call you bunny."

"I see." Which for Spock meant he didn't exactly think it was logical, but there was little he could do to stop Jim, and besides, it wasn't that bad. Just a nick name. It could have been so much worse. He blinked as Jim shifted to the floor and grasped his leg, rolling up the hem of the jeans so he could walk.

"It's not the most fashionable thing, but I'd hate to see you fall face first down the stairs. Mom's got breakfast waiting, pancakes, eggs, hash browns and bacon. So come on." He slipped his arm around Spock's waist and lead him down to the kitchen.

* * *

Winona was seated at the table when they came downstairs, slowly turning the pages of a large, thick book.

"Whatcha looking at mom?" Jim peered over her at the pages, which revealed it to be a photo album. He sighed; honestly what was it with moms that whenever you came to visit and had a friend or date, they had to whip out the baby photos and fuss over them, remembering when you were little and generally embarrassing you?

"Just…looking through some old pictures. It's been so long since I've seen you, and now you're going back into space. You're all grown up," she started to sound a bit tearful, and Jim grimaced behind her back. He looked over at Spock, wondering just what he thought of the whole ordeal. He was surprised to see that he almost appeared to…well, to soften. A very faint smile ghosted across his lips, gone in an instant as he met Jim's gaze. He arched an eyebrow at the dopey grin Jim gave him. Unfortunately,Jim was so wrapped in Spock's mild display of emotion that he didn't pay attention to his mom, who pulled out a picture that he would rather have forgotten.

"Ohh, Jimmy look at you," Winona slid the picture out of its protective plastic sleeve, holding it up for him to see. Jim repressed a groan as he took the picture. It was him, about two years old, in baby blue footie pajamas that were spangled with stars and planets. He was sleeping on his stomach, his legs tucked up and his butt in the air, and his thumb in his mouth. His hair was all stuck up like light blonde feathers around his head. "You're so cute," his mom said fondly.

"May I see?" Spock asked. Winona plucked the picture from Jim before he could protest, and passed it to Spock. His head tilted to the side as he examined it, and Jim resisted the urge to tap his foot impatiently, awaiting his thoughts on the photo. "I agree with your mother."

Jim choked slightly on his coffee, mopping his hand with the napkin his mom handed him. "You do?"

"Yes."

"And that's all you're going to say on it, isn't it?"

"Yes."

"Bit early to be monosyllabic, isn't it?"

"No."

"You're obnoxious."

Winona laughed softly. "Pot, kettle, black."

Jim glared at her, then Spock, and then down at his plate, as though it too had mocked him. "Pass the bacon please."

* * *

After breakfast, the two packed their bags, laying in their freshly laundered and folded clothes and going to meet Winona by the truck. She insisted on driving them to the shuttle, wanting to spend just a little more time with her son.

"Good bye mom, I'll talk to you soon," Jim assured her as she leaned out the window to hug him.

"Once you get back to your ship? Just so I know you made it safe," she asked.

"Sure, if you like. And will you tell Pancake that Spock said good bye? He wouldn't do it, said it was illogical, but I know he liked her, and she'll be sad that he's gone."

Winona chuckled a little tearfully, and said that of course she would. She waved to them as they walked towards the terminal, looking for their shuttle, before pulling away in a cloud of dust.

* * *

Leonard "Bones" McCoy paced around the shuttle bay, waiting for Jim and Spock. They were late. Jim he expected it from, but Spock? Surely that was a sign of the apocalypse. He slumped against the side of the shuttle, looking up as Sulu and Chekov strolled into view. The kid was cradling something, cooing at it in Russian.

"Look vhat Hikaru got me!" Pavel held out his hands, shoving his present under McCoy's nose.

"You got him a tribble?!"

Sulu had the good grace to flush and look down in embarrassment. "Well, yeah, I felt bad not being able to go to Russia with him. He knows enough not to feed it."'

"Cocoa," Pavel interrupted, nuzzling the dark brown ball of fluff.

"Oh, right, sorry. He knows enough not to feed Cocoa. We both do. Besides, Scotty has one."

"What do I 'ave?" Scotty appeared, leaning over Bones to see what Pavel was holding. Keenser peered around as well, standing on tip toe to get a decent view. "Ah. Aye, I've got a tribble. Good pets, long as you dannae feed'em."

"But then they escape, and eat and breed, and eat some more and breed some more and before you know it we're up to our eyes in tribbles and the ship is crashing into some planet's sun," Bones griped sourly. He glanced up to see Pavel looking weepy, complete with lower lip trembling and huge watery blue eyes. Sulu, Scotty, and even Keenser gave him reproachful looks. Bones threw up his hands, giving in.

"Fine, keep the damn thing. I won't even bother appealing to Jim about it, he'll just say it's cute and I'm being paranoid," he muttered, turning away.

* * *

"Talking to yourself Leo?" Uhura ambled up to him, toting her bag.

"Apparently, seeing as the children," Bones gestured to the others, "are all cooing over the ball of fluff Sulu got the kid."

"Sulu got Pavel a tribble?"

"Unfortunately."

"Huh. Does our illustrious captain know?" she asked, her voice laced with sarcasm.

"Haven't seen him or the hobg-Spock," Bones ducked his head, grinning sheepishly. "They're late," he finished hurriedly. Uhura frowned, setting her bag down.

"They're late? But, Spock would never let them be late. He'd haul Jim here himself if he had to."

"I know. And as amusing as that thought may be, this doesn't feel like just a case of over sleeping. I'm thinking of getting in touch with Jim's mom. He mentioned that she'd be there towards the end of leave, maybe she knows where they are," Bones said over his shoulder. Uhura followed at his heels, looking at the vid screen next to him. Bones pulled the contact info from deep in his memory, punching it in and waiting for the connection.

* * *

The face that came into view was that of a man, dark haired and looking less than pleased.

"Yeah?"

"Umm…" Bones faltered slightly.

"We'd like to speak to Mrs. Kirk please. It's important," Uhura cut in, patting Bones on the arm. The man frowned, and called out behind him.

"Winona! Someone's looking for you!" A few seconds later a woman entered, and the resemblance was enough that it was clear she was Jim's mother.

"Hi Mrs. Kirk, I'm Leonard McCoy-''

"Oh Jimmy's friend. Bones right?" She smiled brightly at him.

"Yeah, Bones. Anyway, we were wondering if Jim and Spock were still there, maybe sleeping in or if they were on their way?"

Winona blinked, scowling at them. "I dropped them both off a while ago. I saw them go for the shuttle. Do you mean to tell me they're not there?" Concern started to seep into her voice.

"They aren't here yet," Uhura said quickly. "Do you know if they were going to stop for a bite to eat or something like that?"

"Jimmy didn't say anything about that, but knowing him, he'd decide at the last minute that he was hungry and trot off to get something to eat and miss the shuttle. And something tells me Spock wouldn't let him go alone. So maybe they both missed the shuttle?"

"Doesn't sound like Spock, letting them both miss it," Uhura said thoughtfully.

"If he was distracted would he?" Winona asked.

Bones shook his head, "Nah, he doesn't get distracted." Uhura snorted; now that was the truth. When he was focused on something, Spock lost sight of everything else around him. She could strut into his room buck naked and plop herself on his lap, and she would be lucky if she got a "Hello Nyota."

On the screen, Winona smiled coyly. "I don't know, I'm sure Jimmy could drive him to distraction if he really wanted to."

"Jim could drive anyone to distraction and to drinking and possibly insanity if he put his mind to it. Sometimes, I don't even think he needs to put his mind to it."

Winona laughed, "You do know him, don't you? Well, if he shows up, will you let me know? And if it turns out that he just went for a bite to eat, smack him in the head for me won't you? For making us all worry."

"Will do Mrs. Kirk," Bones hung up and turned back to Uhura. "So, he's not at his house, and he's not here. That leaves the entire state of Iowa where he and Spock could be."

"For all we know they hijacked a shuttle and are off on extended leave," she muttered.

Bones shook his head. "One, Spock would never ever let Jim do that. Two, even Jim wouldn't shirk being Captain. He loves it too much, almost as much as he loves the Enterprise. And three, can you really see Jim and Spock on a boys' weekend, causing mischief and partying?"

"Good point. So where are they?"

He sighed, slumping against the wall. "I've no idea. I think maybe we should ask for the security footage from the shuttle station where they were at. Maybe it'll tell us where they are."

* * *

An hour later found Bones, Uhura, Scotty, Keenser, Sulu and Chekov crowded around a vid screen sorting through hours of empty shuttle bay with the occasional passerby. Bones took to skipping large chunks, much to the annoyance of the others.

"Leo, go back I think I just saw them!"

"You didn't."

"No, she did, I saw it."

"Shut up Sulu. I'm the one pushing the button here, not you."

"Um, hello?"

"Hey! Don't tell me to shut up!"

"Guys?"

"Scotty, don't, you're going backwards!"

"GUYS!"

* * *

Each of them fell silent, looking startled at Chekov, who flushed, cuddling Cocoa. "They're on screen now." He pointed, and indeed, there was Kirk and Spock making their way down the shuttle station, Kirk slouching with his bag on one shoulder and one hand crammed in his pocket. Spock was perfectly straight next to him, walking at a sedate pace. Kirk was grinning mischievously, his gaze flicking to Spock every few seconds. He seemed to be trying to annoy Spock, invading his space by tiny increments while Spock gave every appearance of ignoring him. It got to the point where Jim was just shy of being inside Spock's shirt, which Uhura noted with some surprise was a t-shirt…and was he wearing jeans as well? They looked good on him. She shook her head and focused once more.

What she saw made her eyes go wide. "Go back a bit!"

Bones glanced at her, but did as she bid, rewinding until she told him to stop. He didn't see what was so significant, just Jim bothering Spock, so close their hands were brushing against one another. But apparently it meant something to Uhura. She gasped and asked him to go back once more, and then magnify their hands.

"No. No way," she muttered.

"Vhat?" Chekov asked.

"Does any of you know anything about Vulcan culture, particularly anything relating to courtship?"

There was a chorus of no's accompanied by head shaking.

"Let me put it bluntly. That right there," she pointed at Jim and Spock's hands, "is a Vulcan kiss."

Bones stared at her. "Excuse me?"

Sulu stuck his hand in the air, bringing attention to himself. "Are you saying they were just making out?"

"That's exactly what I'm saying, but that's just…impossible. I mean…if I wasn't seeing it, I'd never believe it."

During this discussion, the footage had continued, with only Chekov paying any manner of attention. What followed made his cheeks burn red. "Excuse me, Miss Uhura? Is that more Vulcan courtship?"

* * *

As one, Uhura, Bones, Scotty, Sulu, and Keenser all turned to face the screen, where Spock had Jim against the wall, either unaware or uncaring that there were security cameras capturing every grope, every kiss, every swipe of a tongue, and every nibble. Sulu clapped his hand over Chekov's eyes while Chekov quickly covered Cocoa the tribble. Keenser shook his head, glancing up at Scotty, who shrugged.

Bones pulled back from the screen, running his hand through his hair. "There isn't any possible way that the footage was altered is there? That this isn't just some bizarre joke?"

"Doubtful," Uhura mumbled distantly, leaning closer to the screen.

"I could magnify it if you want," Bones commented scathingly. She shot him a glare cold enough that he scooted back even more, and Scotty, who had just glimpsed it, shuddered.

"Haven't you noticed anything odd about this?" she retorted.

"I've noticed plenty, you'll have to be a bit more specific," he snapped, now that he was what he considered a safe distance from her.

Uhura narrowed her eyes at all of them; each man paled as she gazed at them, except Chekov, who still had Sulu's hand over his eyes and was thus immune to it. "If you _boys_ would focus on something other than the interesting yet _hardly_ surprising display of affection going on, you'd notice something off about the shuttle behind them. The one that was _supposed_ to bring them here." Her fingers flew across the keys under the screen, zooming in on the side of the shuttle that should have displayed the Federation name of it. Instead, what was there, while still fuzzy and difficult to make out, was another language entirely, not Federation standard. Uhura spun to face the others. "That's not a Federation shuttle. I'm not clear yet what that is, but it's clear what happened. Jim and Spock were kidnapped."

_A/N: dun dun dunnnnn! Yeah, kidnapped. Tragic, no? And, if anyone's still reading this after the wicked long college induced wait between chapters, reviews are love. Seriously. _


	10. Chapter 10

Hello my lovely readers and fans. I unfortunately come bearing less than stellar news. As this week and next are the last two weeks in the semester, and the week after that is finals week, I shall be loaded down with papers and projects alike, with little time left to even think, let alone type some of that delicious slash we all love. I know, it sucks big time. I'm not happy about it either. I've got such good ideas floating about in my noggin…*sigh*. I'm still going to try and find some time to work on the next chapters of _Like a Soap Opera_ and _Two's Company_, but I wouldn't expect a chapter from me anytime soon. I will however, be devoting any space in my brain that's not devoted to history or math or Earnest Hemingway to fleshing out the ideas I've got. Which is good, because I've kind of hit a wall with _Two's Company_ (anyone wants to help that'd be super, just PM me, and if I like it and it fits with the vague outline I've got, I shall of course credit you as the genius behind the idea). Plus, winter break starts on December 18th, and goes to January 20th it looks like. So that's oodles of time for me to catch up, as I don't think I'm being shipped off to visit the grandparents again. I just wanted to give you all a heads up, as you've all been lovely, reviewing and such. I'll try not to make my disappearance long.


	11. Chapter 11

_A/N: First of all, I would like to thank all you guys who reviewed and were just like "C'mon, hurry up, can't wait, etc." Makes me feel all warm and fuzzy. Second, I've been chipping away at that wall I hit, and I've made a bit of a dent. Nothing too huge, I'm still swinging away with my little pickaxe, but it's a start. Trust me; I was about as thrilled with that as you. In my head, I pretty much got to the smut and couldn't think past that. But Spock and Jimmy are like that, wanting to give me nothing but yummy smut and no plot in my head, and it's hard to go "No damn it, I need an actual plot. I had one, stop distracting me!" Oh well, enough of my rambling. On with the show._

Jim slowly cracked open his eyes, blinking back the haze left over from being unconscious for who knew how long. As his vision cleared, he found himself face to face with a grinning skull. He yelped and scrambled back. The skull clattered to the floor, the jaw clicking open and shut, and seemed to leer at him with its empty, black eye sockets.

"Yeah, that wasn't a totally depressing thought or anything," he muttered, trying to cover up the slamming of his heart against his ribs and the slight tremor to his voice under false bravado. Not that there was anyone there to cover it for. He was alone…somewhere. By the look of the bare walls, minimal furnishings, and heavy barred door, he would have guessed in a cell. And judging from the very slight tremor in the ground and the walls, he would also guess that said cell was on a ship. So, he had his whereabouts, sort of, now where was Spock?

"I don't suppose you know where he is?" Jim glanced down at the skull. Of course it didn't answer; not that he really expected it to, but for the time being it was his only company and he had to bounce his ideas of someone…or some_thing_. Sighing, he kicked idly at the other bones scattered across the floor. Obviously, he wasn't the first occupant of the cell, and the fact that all that was left of the previous occupants was bones was hardly encouraging. Although, Jim was able to entertain himself momentarily by picking up the skull and doing a bad impersonation of Bones himself.

"All I've got left is my bones," he drawled as best he could, snickering. "Wonderful, I've been here five minutes, and I've already gone insane." Jim wandered towards the door, intending to try and get a better idea of his location. But the minute he touched the metal, a powerful jolt knocked him on his ass and sent him twitching. "Shit! Now who the hell wires up the bars? It isn't enough that they're big heavy bars, they've got to electrocute you too?" Still cursing, he rubbed his reddened palms and slid down the wall, peering more carefully through the spaces between the bars. In doing so, he discovered where Spock was.

* * *

His First Officer was sprawled out on the floor of a cell across from his, on his side, his hair disheveled, visibly still knocked out. As Jim watched, he rolled onto his back, one arm flung over his eyes.

"Spock? You awake?"

A low groan in response, and then, "Barely."

"How you feeling?"

"My head feels…heavy. As do all of my limbs. And my throat is dry," Spock coughed to emphasize this, and pushed himself to a sitting position.

"Yeah, can't help you there. I don't know if there's water, or anything. I don't even know where we are. It's just been me and poor Yorick there," Jim nodded towards the skull.

Spock arched an eyebrow. "Did you know him?"

Jim smirked, "Alas, I knew him well. I also know, from experience, to not touch the bars. They're wired up or something. Look." He held out his palms for Spock to see, the reddened skin very visible despite the poor lighting.

"Fascinating," Spock pushed himself to his feet, stumbling only a little bit. "We are on a ship then. But we do not know its origins, or who the pilot is, or why we have been captured by it, correct?"

"Correct. All I can remember is boarding the shuttle. Obviously, it wasn't a Starfleet issue shuttle. I'm guessing we were drugged. Hence why we're both on the unsteady side. And in the time I've been up, no one's come by. I don't know when or even if we're going to get fed. As far as kidnappings go, this one really sucks."

Spock stared at him.

"What?" Jim retorted. "By now, a proper villain would have given us at least half of his plot for world domination."

"I believe you watched far too many movies over leave Jim. That is rarely the case in real life."

"I can dream can't I?"

"By all means. But perhaps while you are dreaming, you can aide me in attempting to get out of here, or at least determining who has us."

"Sure, sure. But I wouldn't worry too much, by now I bet the crew has figured out that something's happened to us and is on it." Jim leaned against the wall, watching as Spock stretched up on tip toe to examine the hinges of the door.

"Is it wise to simply sit here and hope we are rescued? Would you not rather escape and save ourselves? Our being rescued is a slim chance, but saving ourselves is something we can count on," Spock stopped stretching, jerking his shirt down.

"Alright, fine," Jim pushed away from the wall, and set about getting as close to the door as he could without shocking himself once more. But of course, he kept brushing against it, and getting a jolt until the electricity had his hair standing on end. Spock glanced at him, eyes bright, and Jim got the distinct impression he was being laughed at. He scowled and smoothed down his hair, sticking his tongue out at the Vulcan, whose hair, naturally, was still perfect. One might consider it immature, but it soothed his ego. For a time anyway.

* * *

The bars shook in their frame as Jim charged at them and was knocked backward, skidding along the floor. Grunting in pain, he got back up, walked to the back of his cell, and ran at them again, shoulder out. To exactly the same effect. This process continued until his shirt was charred, his skin was reddened and bruised, and the cell was full of the faint smell of something burning.

"Jim! Please, stop before you injure yourself further," Spock asked, no, almost pleaded. It was the pleading quality that stopped Jim. "Dr. McCoy would never forgive me if I allowed you to be injured irreparably and that is getting us nowhere. What we need to do is think." Jim nodded, and sat down cross legged, letting himself feel his self inflicted wounds for the first time. His shoulder ached, a warm throb that settled from the base of his neck down to his elbow. And one of his favorite shirts was scorched away in places, leaving it riddled with holes.

Spock sat in similar fashion in his cell, eyes closed, seemingly at peace. Jim knew however, that at a moment's notice, he would be up and have a person pinned to the wall by their throat before they could blink. He tried to be as calm as the Vulcan, but in all honesty, he was getting a tad bit anxious about being in the cell for so long, no matter what he said about his certainty that the crew would come find them. He drummed his fingers on his thigh, nibbling idly on the thumb nail of his other hand. Yorick the skull grinned madly at him from the corner, seeming to mock his situation.

"Fuck you," Jim snapped, hurling the skull at the wall. Spock blinked in surprise, head cocked to the side. "Don't ask, it's better if you don't."

"As you wish," Spock inclined his head, closing his eyes once more. Jim let out a tiny sigh; now Spock probably thought he was going insane, and that he couldn't handle this. But really, if there was one thing he hated, it was not knowing. What kind of person kidnapped someone without telling them why? And again, who wired up bars and made it so one couldn't escape? Sighing again, he lay down, curling up on his side and staring vacantly through the bars at Spock.

"Why…why do you think we were captured? Do you think it's because of whom we are, y'know, saviors of Earth, greatest Captain and First Officer team the fleet's ever seen? Or something else entirely?" Jim rolled onto his back. "And if it's not because of who we are, I would like to know why. And I'm getting hungry. You?"

Spock opened one eye, appraising his companion a moment before answering. "I would not object to something to eat. Nor would I object to our being in the same cell. I admit it is quiet and…empty by myself, despite the fact that you are merely a few yards away." He scooted along the floor until he was pressed against the wall and as close to the bars as he dared get before indicating Jim should do the same. "This shall have to do until we have escaped."

"You miss me," Jim said, grinning delightedly. "It's alright if you don't wanna come out and say it, I get it. But I appreciate the gesture." He leaned back, looking sidelong at Spock. "What do you want to do next leave?"

"What?"

"Next leave, what do you want to do? Do you want to go to the ocean? Or maybe check out New Vulcan and see older you?"

"Why can we not do both?"

"We can, I was just wondering if there was something you would prefer to do," Jim shrugged, wincing as his shoulder brushed against the bars. "We could have a road trip; go anywhere _you_ wanted, seeing as you tagged along to my place."

"I wanted to come to Iowa with you, if you recall," Spock replied. "Thank you however, for the consideration. I would like to see the ocean with you, and a trip to New Vulcan would not be an objectionable endeavor. We should go anyway."

"Yeah?" Jim looked fully at him, and noted with no small amount of glee the pale green tinge spreading across the bridge of his nose. "Spock, why should we go to New Vulcan?" he singsonged.

"Bonding, blessings, things such as that," Spock answered, and if Jim didn't know better, he would've said he was being deliberately evasive. His lips curled up in a mischievous smile. Spock was embarrassed! It was perhaps the best thing to come out of the entire debacle that he was almost nervous looking at the notion of bringing Jim back to get his father's blessing. Were it not so damned cute, he might've taken offense, but looking at the green flush, which by now had spread to the tips of his ears, he couldn't find it in him to be bothered.

"Bonding and blessing huh? You mentioned that…we've got to go to New Vulcan for that?"

"Yes. There are rituals…rituals I would prefer to explain to you in greater detail when it is time and we are not locked in separate cells."

"Fair enough. Anyway, seeing as it's unlikely anything interesting is going to happen, or that we're going to get food any time soon, I think I'll rest up, get some sleep that's not drug induced. You might want to do the same thing," Jim slid down the wall, his eyes falling shut. Spock, choosing not to point out that he needed less sleep than Jim, settled more comfortable against the wall as well, and let his eyes close as he drifted off for a quick cat nap.

* * *

Jim awoke freezing cold. He wrapped his arms tightly around himself, shivering uncontrollably. "W-w-what the f-fuck happened?" he wondered aloud between chattering teeth. His breath puffed out in front of him as he sat up and looked around. At once his eyes sought out Spock, who, he remembered, was more comfortable in warmer temperatures. His First was curled into the tightest ball imaginable, shaking violently, his skin an unhealthy mix between green and blue.

"Spock! Shit, shit, shit!" Jim scrambled to his feet, unconsciously rattling the bars in a vain attempt at getting free. At the last moment, just as his fingers curled around the icy metal, he recalled the electricity coursing through it. Fortunately, for reasons unknown (most likely in relation to the sudden drop in temperature), the wiring was off. Which meant that if he was quick, and creative, he could bust out and get to Spock. looking wildly around his cell for something to aid his break out attempt, his gaze came to rest on the remains of Yorick, one eye socket remaining intact, seeming to glare forlornly at him.

"Sorry buddy," Jim muttered, and hefted one of the bigger shards. He felt around the front of the bars, hoping for a primitive key hole. Of course, luck wasn't on his side, and there wasn't one for him to try and pick. But there were still hinges holding the bars in place. Praying to any and all gods he could think of that the shard wouldn't break; he slid it into the hinge, prodding about for a screw or pin to slide loose. Karma, lady luck, or whatever decided to cut him a break, and with a bit of maneuvering, a pin slid out of the hinges and pinged to the floor. Deciding that it would be better to ponder over what sort of race had old style hinges with pins holding them in place that were wired up but didn't have a key hole later on after he'd rescued Spock, Jim set about jimmying loose the remaining hinges and kicked the huge door down. With a shriek of metal on metal, it fell into the bars of Spock's cell, bending them in without crushing the shivering Vulcan.

"Huh, weird," Jim shook his head and wriggled through the opening now available. He knelt at Spock's side, pressing his fingers into his neck, searching for a pulse. He drew in a sharp breath; Spock's skin was like ice, and his pulse, while there, was slow and ponderous. The door screamed once more, thinly, and slid down an inch more. "Damn it! Spock, c'mon, I know you're cold, but…fuck it, I'll carry you!" Jim, with much cursing and struggling, hauled Spock onto his back, his head lolling against his neck."God damn, you're heavy," he swore. Spock let out a low groan, and Jim felt his eye lashes fluttering as he tried to open them.

"Jim?"

"Yeah, hey, so, as I'm sure you noticed, the temperature control failed, thus plunging us into these icy conditions. Which neither of us likes, you more specifically. I'm guessing that the temperature and electric doors are one the same circuit or something, because the doors aren't wired up right now. Also, those doors are screwed up," Jim paused his explanation as he squeezed them through and back into his cell. "They've got no key hole and are wired up like a Christmas tree or something, but they've got ancient hinges. So, I took a shard donated by Yorick, pried'em loose and came and got you. You need to get warm," he set Spock down and then sat himself before pulling Spock back to lean against his chest.

"Hands," Jim tried to tug Spock's frozen hands into his own, only to be stopped.

"Jim I t-told you, Vulcan hands are very sensitive," Spock began, willing his teeth to stop chattering.

"I know, I know, but Spock you're way to frozen to even think of getting excited about this. Now give me your hands before you lose them to frostbite!"

Whether it was the command in Jim's voice, or his breath warm on the back of his neck, or the already gentle kneading his was doing along the back and palms of his hands, Spock would never know. Nonetheless, he surrendered his hands, letting Jim rub feeling back into them. Pins and needles spread from his wrists down to his finger tips, making him shift uncomfortably. He felt Jim's lips curl up against the back of his neck, and he might have protested, but he could not deny the obvious fact that he _was_ warmer. Jim's hands slid down to wrap around his waist, hugging him tightly before letting go.

"Right, so, now that we're not so in danger of becoming popsicles, what say we try and find out where the hell we are?" he offered Spock a hand up and led him out of the cell. They walked slowly down a long gangway, other cells spaced evenly on either side. Most contained the remnants from their previous occupants, ranging from the skeletal to the more…decomposing looking. They were obviously of varying species as well, some having more than the usual amount of bony limbs, others having no recognizable skeletal structure. And still others neither of them even wanted to hazard a guess about.

* * *

"That's disgusting," Jim complained, his voice muffled by his arm held over his mouth and nose. The scent of death lingered around those cells, clinging thickly to the back of their throats, sickly sweet. "What the hell happened here?"

"I do not know, but I believe the temperature is dropping even more," Spock allowed himself to huddle closer to Jim, seeking warmth. Not that the captain had any to spare, but it was worth a try. By the time they were halfway down the gangway, Jim had one arm along Spock's shoulders pulling him close, the other around his waist. Spock had both arms around Jim's waist, tucking his head against Jim's shoulder and trying desperately to get warm. His joints ached with cold, and he felt that the tips of his ears and nose would soon drop off. Jim was faring no better, and he motioned to Spock that they should take a second to catch their breaths, huddled against the wall.

The wall vibrated behind them as they shivered together against it and the temperature plunged. "We've got to get off this ship," Jim muttered through teeth clenched tightly against chattering. "There's got to be an escape pod left somewhere, some means of leaving." Without warning, he yawned widely, his jaw cracking. Spock was drifting in and out of sleep against his chest. "No, no sleep, c'mon Spock. Up," he struggled to his feet, hauling Spock with him. Spock grumbled in protest before shaking his head furiously, regaining some of his control. He smoothed down his shirt, ignoring the smirk Jim was giving him and resisted the urge to rub the sleep from his eyes. Jim would of course, never let him live it down.

In an effort to salvage his professionalism, Spock took the lead, scanning the walls for something resembling a map of the vast ship. Jim let him, opting for following as close as he could without tripping up his first officer, a hand on his shoulder. Spock paused at one wall, clearing a thick layer of dust from it. Absently wiping his fingers on his jeans, he peered at the faded illustration on the wall.

"I believe I have found something Jim," he said quietly. Jim stretched on tip toe, looking over his shoulder.

"So you have. Is that a map?"

"It was, it is faded now and difficult to read, but I think…" Spock traced a finger along what was once a path. "This is where the escape pods were kept. This route will be quickest," he drew out the path through the dust, circling the area the pods were stored in.

"Hopefully there's some left," Jim muttered.

"Judging by the state of the…prisoners, it is likely. Yet this entire situation is hardly logical, so there is a possibility there won't be," Spock answered, taking Jim's hand.

"Couldn't just lie to me and tell me we were going to find an abundance of pods could you?" Jim sighed, shoulders sagging. He glanced up as Spock squeezed his hand lightly. "No, of course not, Vulcans don't lie, it's illogical. Probably for the best anyway."

"Probably. I am sorry Jim."

"Not your fault. C'mon, let's see if our luck will hold out. Hey, maybe we'll get extra lucky and the pods will be on the small side. Then we can get extra close, for warmth you know?"

"For warmth, of course. Why would I think otherwise?"

"I have no idea."

_A/N: so, there you have it. Honestly, I think the world just doesn't want me to write this. Once I made a dent in my writer's block, it was the holidays and my family was all "oh let's do family bonding togetherness things!" which is nice but, c'mon, really? Can't even spare me a few minutes to type some smut? And then my computer went all wonky on me, and I was up doing scans and defragmenting and other things to unwonk it. Le sigh. Such is my life. But here's this now. And I think the wall is pretty much obliterated, just a few bricks left. So, hurray or something. _


	12. Chapter 12

_A/N: oh my god you guys. 170 reviews that I totally don't deserve. I am so sorry it's taken this long. It's not the wall; that is essentially gone, just the broken bits of a few bricks. This is mainly my own indecisiveness, where I want this to go. It's like as soon as the wall went down, I was flooded with ideas and I couldn't pick among them. Again, if anyone's still sticking along with this fic, my apologies for the wait. _

They found the pods far in the bowels of the ship, many of them open half way, as though in preparation for boarding. The floor was littered with skeletons, all uniform in design, most likely of the same species. Perhaps they'd been slave drivers? But then, why had they left their bounty, if that's what the corpses in the cells were? Spock thought of the drastic change in temperature, and surmised that something had definitely gone wrong with the ship, and it would be to their benefit if they got off it as soon as possible.

As Jim had suspected, the only escape pods left gathering a blanket of dust were clearly not built for two. However, he would not hear a word of him and Spock traveling in separate pods. After fifteen minutes of what Spock called "discussing", he gave up, and simply accepted that Jim was determined to somehow fit both of them into a single pod. He stepped back and let Jim pace in front of it, trying to figure out how he was going to attempt this.

The pods were not only shallow; they were quite narrow, though tall enough that neither of them risked bumping their heads or getting cramps in their legs. The problem really was, as far as Spock could see, which one of them would be on the bottom.

* * *

"I think I'll have to go in first, and then you with your back to me," Jim finally ceased pacing, and Spock could admit to a small measure of pride at how serious Jim was attempting to take the situation. There were no lewd comments about how they were going to fit, not even a smirk. He had no doubt they would come later, but for now…for now Jim was still speaking.

"That way you can monitor the controls…if you can make sense of them I mean. The language is like nothing I've ever seen," Jim frowned, drumming his fingers along his chin. "I can't make heads or tails at it, but you're better at that sort of thing so…" he shrugged, and went back to the pod. Together they shoved open the hatch, Jim sneezing as a cloud of dust rained down upon him. Blinking furiously to clear his eyes, he lay back in the pod, shifting so his shoulders weren't so squeezed. It would be uncomfortable, but it was the best they had. His breath fogged in front of him, reminding him of the cold. And now that he was still, he could feel a slight vibration through his feet, like the ship itself was shivering from the cold. Which of course, was not good.

Spock waited until Jim was settled and beckoned him closer before trying to move in. The comfort level decreased substantially as he struggled to pull the hatch down. Jim's knees were jammed into the back of his, and his shoulder was tucked tightly under Jim's chin.

"Ok, hang on, ow! You're crushing my hands Spock," Jim twisted and tugged until his hands were free from behind Spock, resting somewhat at ease on Spock's hips. "Can you figure out how to get us going?"

"I have determined how to release us from the ship yes, but not how to change course. Whatever course was laid in, that is where we are going," Spock replied.

"You don't think it's some tropical planet with scantily clad female inhabitants who will treat us like gods but not sacrifice us to a volcano do you?" Jim asked hopefully. Silence from in front of him, though he could almost hear that slanted eyebrow arching towards the perfectly even hairline. "Yeah, I didn't think so either."

"Of course not. What purpose would such a planet serve you anyway, even if you and I were placed in separate dwellings?"

Jim blanched; Spock had never struck him as the jealous type, but there it was, a distinct thread of it in his otherwise innocuous question. "Window shopping. Looking, but no touching. Not even that much looking, only a teeny tiny little bit. Not my fault they're worshiping me in barely there outfits."

"Jim, these females do not even exist, nor does this planet. They are of your own creation."

"I know that. I'm simply saying that were such a planet to exist with females like that, that it wouldn't matter to me, even if we were in different dwellings. I of course would look, because they'd be there and it's not entirely safe for me to go about with my eyes closed, but nothing more, not even they started it. I'd never cheat; it's just a shitty thing to do. I may've had a lot of relationships, but I never cheated in any of them. So don't worry your pointy eared head about that."

Spock didn't even bother to tell Jim he hadn't been worried. Jim would only contradict him, as he was so fond of doing, and they would argue, which would make for a highly uncomfortable ride. So he remained quiet, letting his eyes fall shut as he enjoyed the silence as they traveled through space. That is, until Jim broke it by singing softly to himself, seemingly unaware of anything else, including the fact that he was tapping out a beat along Spock's hip bone. Spock could admit that Jim's singing voice was not terrible, dipping and rising along the lyrics of what was obviously a love song.

"I _can dim the lights and sing you songs full of sad things /We can do the tango just for two /I can serenade and gently play on your heart strings /Be your valentino just for you."

* * *

_

"What are you singing?"

Jim jerked slightly, surprised, like he'd forgotten Spock was there. "Good Old Fashioned Lover Boy, by an old Earth band by the name of Queen. They had so many good songs. We Will Rock You, Killer Queen, Bohemian Rhapsody…" he trailed off, thinking.

"Fat Bottomed Girls?" Spock suggested before he could help himsef, making Jim let out a snort of laughter.

"You know Queen?"

"My mother often played their songs, but I never knew the name of the band. I found them…enjoyable."

"Only enjoyable?" Jim asked. He could picture it, Spock as a little kid, dancing around with his mom, Queen blasting loudly, before he'd become the Spock leaning against him in the pod. "It's not bothering you is it? Me singing? Because I could stop…"

"No, it is not bothering me. Frankly, I find it somewhat comforting, given our current situation. You do not have to stop." Spock shifted back, leaning more against Jim and sliding his hands over his.

"Is that my cue to serenade you?" Jim smirked.

"Yes."

"Being monosyllabic again, huh? Alright. And just so you know, I'm changing songs," he inhaled deeply, his own eyes shutting as well.

"_You're better then the best  
I'm lucky just to linger in your light  
Cooler then the flip side of my pillow, that's right  
Completely unaware  
Nothing can compare to where you send me,  
Lets me know that it's ok, yeah it's ok  
And the moments where my good times start to fade_

_You make me smile like the sun  
Fall out of bed, sing like a bird  
Dizzy in my head, spin like a record  
Crazy on a Sunday night  
You make me dance like a fool  
Forget how to breathe  
Shine like gold, buzz like a bee  
Just the thought of you can drive me wild  
Ohh, you make me smile_"

* * *

"What song is that?" Spock asked softly.

"Smile, by this guy that went by the name Uncle Kracker. It's a nice, mellow sort of love song," Jim replied, tracing idle patterns with his finger on Spock's hip. "Any requests? If I'm gonna keep singing, I don't wanna have to try and dredge up songs from my memory."

"I am not entirely familiar with Earth songs," Spock answered, and he actually sounded regretful. "I can only recall snatches and bits of the songs my mother favored." Jim let out a non-committal sound, nuzzling against the back of his neck, trying to cheer him up or at least push the less than cheerful thoughts associated with his mother from his mind. He didn't realize how much effort he was really putting into that until he felt Spock relax and half turn towards him, that minute half smile passing over his face.

"I appreciate the effort Jim, but honestly, I was not as upset as you seemed to think."

Jim gave him a blank stare as best he could, "What the hell are you talking about?" A beat later, realization dawned on him. "Ohh, right, bond. Sorry, I didn't mean to just poke into your head like that. I felt bad that's all. I hate…well not _seeing_, per se, but getting the sense you're upset," he shrugged, and his shirt rode up, bunching between them uncomfortably. "Damn it!" he wriggled, trying to get his shirt down, and only succeeding both in pushing it higher up, and getting rug burn on his stomach from the back of Spock's shirt. "Well this sucks."

"Indeed."

"Just when you thought it couldn't possibly get more uncomfortable in here, right? The universe just loves proving me wrong."

"I do not believe it is ill intent on the part of the entire universe Jim."

"Maybe not the entire universe," Jim conceded. He gently extricated his hand from Spock's, and somehow managed to fit it between them and jerk his shirt back into place. "Much better. When d'you suppose we'll land?"

"I do not know. I have no way of finding out where this pod is going, so I have no idea of how far it is."

"Which is just plain weird, even for us."

"What is?"

"First, the whole random kidnapping. And then the ship essentially breaking down around us. Now, we're stuck in a pod belonging to a species we don't know, and whose language not even you can decipher. Hell, I don't think even Uhura could make sense of it."

"I would refrain from telling her so."

"Yeah, no worries there. But honestly, don't you think this whole scenario is just ridiculous? If it wasn't happening to us, I wouldn't believe it."

Spock went quiet in front of him, and he could practically hear the gears turning in the Vulcan's mind under his immaculate black hair. When he finally spoke, it was not the answer Jim was expecting. "I believe we would do well to sleep while we are in here."

"Why?"

"We do not know where we are going to land. It could be hostile, he could be friendly. There is a chance we will need all out strength. We may actually need it all anyway. One never knows."

Jim hated to agree with him on that, but he had little choice. "Like I'll be able to fall asleep in this," he muttered, shifting backwards until he was marginally more comfortable. Seconds later, he was asleep, head tilted back, mouth open, snoring. Spock arched an eyebrow, and silently hoped that Jim did not drool on him before letting his own eyes fall shut and sleep take him.

* * *

Scotty was beginning to think he deserved some sort of medal. Not only for keeping McCoy the right level of drunk, where he could still competently perform his job, but was less likely to complain; but for sacrificing his own personal store of scotch for such. _It's for the greater good_, he reminded himself time and again. _The greater good_.

Indeed, the less McCoy complained, the less likely he was to wind up suffering from some unfortunate "accident". Scotty understood of course; he'd be a little shocked too if he came back from leave to discover his best friend had hooked up with someone he was less than fond of. But for god's sake, he'd been going on about it for days! McCoy alternated between shaking his head and muttering that he couldn't believe it and telling anyone who'd listen, which was no one honestly, that he knew Jim, and he and Spock would be broken up within weeks, just wait. Scotty felt less than inclined to agree. He'd seen the footage, and he knew the look on Jim's face. He was in love, even if he didn't realize it just yet. And judging from how Spock responded, so was he. Scotty thought it was rather sweet, truth be told. Keenser grudgingly agreed. McCoy, obviously, did not.

* * *

"But he hates Spock!" the CMO stated again, slamming his fist on the table for emphasis and rattling both his and Scotty's drinks.

"I think he did, at one point," Scotty replied, sounding amazingly wise despite being at least three sheets to the wind at that point. "But look, he willingly took him on as First Officer, he went with him onto th' Narada. They've always go' each other's backs. 'S like a balance 'tween them. They learn'd ta get pas' their dif-dif-dif'rences." He shook his head and rubbed his eyes, which felt so heavy. McCoy had woken him, bringing his own booze for once, and made himself at home in his quarters. Understandably, his patience was wearing thin with the good doctor. It wasn't even a big deal, who the captain dated. Frankly, Scotty thought McCoy would be pleased, as it meant Jim was less likely to pick up some odd alien STD. But nooooooo, of course not. He had to be disturbing his peace, when he needed to have his wits about him to keep his lady running smooth. He swore, if McCoy opened his mouth one more time…

"It's not fair, could've contacted me about it, didn't even mention-''

"Oh get over it will ya? There's more pressin' matters at hand! Like, oh I dunno, the fact that the cap'n and first officer are both missin'! And there ya are, whining about the fact that they're datin' or wha'ever! It doesn't matter! I woulda thought, as his so called best friend that you'd be happy for the cap'n!"

"Why the hell would I be happy he's sleeping with that pointy eared green blooded hobgoblin?"

Scotty growled softly. "Ya might wanna give yourself an eye exam Doc, if ya cannae see it. Our cap'n and first officer are in love. 'S not jus' sleepin' together. Now, I need ta get some sleep, and I've no doubt you do too. So…g'night," he ushered McCoy to his door, stuck his bottle of booze in his hand, and shut and locked the door. Only when he'd snuggled down in his bed, which had never felt more comfortable, did he feel a little guilty. And also more than a little worried. He'd probably just pissed off the person who patched him up if he ever needed it. Doing so wasn't exactly the most intelligent thing. But, the part of his brain that wanted sleep rationalized, it had needed to be done. McCoy had needed sense shouted at him. It was the only way he'd get past things.

McCoy stood outside Scotty's door for a few beats, gaping. He hadn't expected that outburst from the engineer; no one could've expected it. The only time he ever got testy was when it involved the Enterprise. But that…that had been shocking. He shook his head, turning away and heading back towards his office, though getting any manner of work done seemed improbable with the way his mind was buzzing. Though he was loathe to admit it, Scotty had made a few good points. Alright, all his points had been good ones. But that didn't mean he had to like it, did it? Because, honestly, when did Jim plan on telling him about Spock? He hadn't even mentioned that there was the slightest possibility of this whole…thing happening. Now it had been sprung on him like this, no warning, and then he'd gone and gotten himself kidnapped so he couldn't even confront him about it. And yes, he realized how unreasonable it sounded, the idea that Jim had intentionally been captured, simply to avoid talking about him and Spock. But, the mood McCoy was in, unreasonable sounded just right.

_A/N: Blarghs, I hate to cut it off here, but I simply couldn't make up my mind of what to have happen next. And I didn't want to put this off anymore. But I promise, the next chapter, which I WILL start working on ASAP, will have more in the way of action. Spock and Jim will land on the planet of mysteriousness and stuff will happen. Stuff's also gonna go down on the Enterprise. *Sigh* sometimes, I seriously hate my brain and it's not giving me a good plot. Oh, and the song business that happened, yeah, that's what happens when you listen to a Queen greatest hits CD everyday on your way to and from school, and your own mix CD._


	13. Chapter 13

_A/N: I know it seems like all I've got is excuses for the delay in updates, but honestly, I had this chapter all set to go, I just needed to type it. However, the 24th, my family had to make an emergency trip to Kentucky where my grandparents live. The following evening my granddad lost his battle with cancer and passed away. I kind of lost my focus after that and only recently found that typing is the only thing that really cheers me. So with that, I bring you the first chapter of the ending of Two's Company. Yeah, it's coming to a close in a few chapters. It's been fun. But fret not; I've more Star Trek fic ideas. _

Jim grunted in surprise as the pod bumped along the planet's surface, jerking and toppling onto its back before skidding to a stop. He'd been dozing off and on for some time, lulled by the warmth of Spock in front of him. Spock too had been half asleep, Jim's gentle stroking along the back of his hands relaxing him to the point where being stuck in the cramped pod didn't seem like such an issue.

"We've landed," Jim muttered unnecessarily. "Can we get out of here? I'd like to stretch my legs a bit."

"I do not know. The air could be toxic, or the atmosphere nonexistent. I cannot understand the readings to find out for certain."

"Damn," Jim could feel his legs going numb. "Well, hang on. We didn't die on the larger ship, nor did we die in here, right?"

"Correct."

"So, one would assume that they, whoever they are, breathe the same sort of air as we do. So we can therefore assume that opening the hatch won't have any negative effects on us. And if it does, I give you permission to say 'I told you so' and kick my ass, if we live that long."

"Hardly an encouraging sentiment Jim."

"It's the best we've got I'm afraid. Go ahead and open it up."

Spock complied, despite thinking it was highly illogical, and opened the hatch of the pod. There was a hiss and dust flew up, making them both cough. But when it settled, they found they could breathe easy, and wasted no time in scrambling from the interior to stretch. Jim let out a sigh as his joints popped and he walked a few paces.

"That's so much better. No offense Spock, I like snuggling as much as the next guy, but once I've lost the feeling in my limbs it goes from being cozy to damn uncomfortable in a hot second," he stretched his arms above his head before shaking them out. He heard Spock murmur that no offense was taken before turning his attention to their surroundings.

It was empty, no signs of life visible at all. There had been at one time though. The ground was soft and turned, evidence that it had been tilled and things had been planted and harvested. There were homes, low, level, resembling on the outside at least to Jim's eye, pueblos from centuries ago Earth. They blended in fairly seamlessly with the scenery, almost like they'd come with the planet, grown from the ground formed as they were. Jim jogged into the nearest one, curiosity getting the better of him and spurring him to explore.

* * *

"Spock, you've got to come check this out! It's…amazing!" he called.

"Are you certain that is a wise idea? We do not know who inhabits this planet, where they are, anything. It would be more prudent to set up a camp around the pod and then decide what to do."

Spock's warning fell on deaf ears as Jim delved deeper into the dwelling. Inside it was almost as modern as the Enterprise, the technology fitting in perfectly with the less advanced amenities one might find in an actual pueblo. Solar panels lined the roof, and powered everything from the sliding doors to the replicator. The material of the building itself, similar to stone took in the heat of the sun or the cool of the night and controlled the temperature. Jim dashed into the kitchen area, yanking open the cabinets in search of food. Sadly, the cabinets were bare, as was the entire kitchen.

"God damnit! What kind of people have a house this cool but no damn food?!" he seethed, leaning against the counter. His stomach grumbled unhappily, the sound echoing in the quiet home. He hadn't eaten in so long, hours, days maybe, whatever, it had been a while and that was not acceptable. Even replicated food wouldn't have been bad at that point, thought he wouldn't have said no to something home cooked that spent hours cooking in the kitchen and only got better with time. His stomach lurched once more, and he sighed heavily. Maybe there was food elsewhere in the house, a basement perhaps where food was stored for the lean months, if there were any. Fueled by this new idea, Jim set about nearly ransacking the house in search of a basement door.

* * *

Outside, Spock was straightening out the escape pod should they need it for any reason during their stay on the planet. He was also doing his best to ignore the little bubble of happiness coming from Jim as he jerked drawers out of their slots and generally turned the dwelling upside down with little regard for the fact that it belonged to someone else. Not that he wasn't beginning to feel slight hunger pains himself, but there had to be something more productive they could be doing, something that would get them back on the Enterprise sooner rather than later. He found the planet disquieting, with the lack of people and empty buildings; it still had an alive feel to it, a subtle thrum of energy that sang along his nerves and made his skin crawl. Spock shook his head hard enough to ruffle his hair, trying to dispel the feeling. It vanished just in time for him to feel a flutter of fear not his own.

"Jim!"

* * *

"Oh shit! Shit shit shit!" Jim backed into a corner, eyes darting about for a means of escape, something to attack with, anything. The basement filled with the clicking buzz of the nightmarish beast baring down on him. It looked like the product of a wasp and spider's one night stand, with more legs than were necessary, massive fangs clicking in agitation or anticipation, a pair of transparent, thick membrane wings buzzing erratically, and a stinger that could turn Jim into a kabob. All this he managed to glimpse in the flickering light of the basement, where it had crawled out of the shadows and decided he would make a good meal. Or, and hear he cursed his over active imagination, if it was female, maybe it was looking for a warm place to lay her eggs and ensure her babies had a good meal when they hatched. All of its many, many eyes were locked on him, as were its two long, segmented antennae, and he bit back a scream as one of its main legs darted out, the claw catching him across the chest and drawing blood. He stumbled back, watching as the tattered remains of his shirt fluttered to the ground blood seeped from the wound. His focus wavered for just a second, but it was enough for the creature to gain the upper hand.

It launched itself up into the air, hovering over Jim before dive bombing him, knocking him flat. It was apparently equipped with spinnerets and silk, because before he could yelp in protest, his legs were bound in the sticky, hard as steel substance and it was steadily creeping up above his waist. He tried to use this to his advantage, leaning back on his hands and swinging his legs like a hammer to knock at least a few of the things legs out. Unfortunately, all he managed was sliding around like a pathetic worm and pissing it off even more. It clattered and hissed at a higher pitch, and the fangs loomed over him. He shut his eyes, ready to accept the inevitable.

He opened them when no fangs pierced him, and he was instead met an ear splitting shrieking sound that echoed off the walls. Jim blinked, trying to see in the dim light as Spock heaved the creature onto its back, legs scrabbling at the air. He picked Jim up, slinging him over his shoulder and running up the stairs with seemingly little care for how his shoulder jabbed into Jim's stomach or how nauseous it would make him to bounce around like that. Once they were free of the house and Spock had dragged Jim and the escape pod a considerable distance away, he set Jim down and tore through the silk that was starting to cut off the circulation in his legs.

* * *

"Perhaps now you will no longer charge into buildings you know nothing about without backup?" Spock said lightly, getting to his feet and offering Jim a hand. Jim got to his feet on his own, glaring slightly at Spock.

"No need to rub it in Spock. I screwed up, I know. But I didn't need you to come charging into to the rescue. I could've gotten myself out." He paced a few steps away, brushing a few clinging strands of silk from his hair and wincing as the skin around his cut pulled taut.

"If I had not been there, there is a good chance that would have been worse," Spock replied. "Would you like me to take a look at it?"

"No I would not!" Jim snapped heatedly. "I can take care of myself."

"That remains to be seen Captain," came the answer, and not for the first time Jim heard the first stirrings of defensive anger in the Vulcan's voice, just barely warm now, but able to scorch when they wanted to. "Besides, it is a first officer's duty to look after his or her commanding officer. To take the blow meant for them and ensure their safety before their own. Had I not gone to rescue you, I'd be in violation-''

"But did you think of how I'd feel if something had happened to you? If you'd ended up skewered and eaten by that thing?" Jim demanded, gesturing wildly towards the house.

"How you would feel is irrelevant Jim," Spock continued, torn between annoyance at Jim's continued lack of respect for the rules and regulations, and a warm, pleased feeling that Jim's anger stemmed from concern over him. However, he could not help but feel as though this would be a routine occurrence, with him trying to perform his duty as first officer and Jim continuously putting himself in harm's way and then being angry when he was rescued at risk to his first officer. He allowed a tiny sigh to pass his lips.

"Perhaps this is why relationships among crew members, especially captains and first officers are discouraged. So situations such as this do not occur."

Jim swallowed thickly. Spock couldn't mean…no…no! He could not, he would not let that happen. "But what about our bond Spock? You didn't think of what would happen to that if anything happened to you, did you?"

Spock shook his head slowly. "Our bond is tenuous at best Jim. You would, at the very least, feel discomfort and grief for a time. But it would pass, you would, assuredly, move on. You have proven yourself to be quite adept at that." He was cut off there when a fist connected with his jaw, and actually managed to send him toppling to land on his rear in the dirt. He looked up to see Jim striding away, shoulders hunched, arms wrapped tight around himself. Though he had claimed their bond was tenuous, it was still strong enough for him to feel that Jim was most definitely not happy, hurting in more ways than one, and Spock couldn't help but feel he had, as the humans said, "Royally fucked up."

* * *

Aboard the Enterprise, Uhura was _this_ close to losing her professional manner and telling the higher ups at Starfleet they could collectively go fuck themselves. They had been made aware that both the captain and first officer were missing in action, and they had given the crew permission to search for as long as it took. And now…now they had revoked that, giving them firm orders to investigate the remains of some great transport ship that had broken into bits that were floating through space. It was maddening.

Sulu glanced over his shoulder to where Uhura was muttering what sounded like curses. It was a little hard to tell though, given that she was speaking in Orion, and Sulu's Orion was a little rusty.

"Everything ok?" he dared to ask, spinning the captain's chair around to face her.

"Far from it actually," she sighed, slouching over her station. "We've been sent out; we can't look for Kirk and Spock right now."

"You're kidding."

"Wish I was. I told them over and over, we'd be going out without a captain or a first officer. Apparently that's not as important as looking at bits of a broken ship," she grumbled.

"Wonderful. Really, that's just great. You know this means we have that much longer stuck on here listening to McCoy going on about Kirk's betrayal or whatever he thinks it is."

"Only when Scotty's not keeping him pleasantly drunk," Uhura snorted.

"I don't know if zat vill be happening anymore," Chekov piped in without looking up from his station.

"Oh? And why is that?" Sulu asked, spinning back around towards him.

"You didn't hear? Scotty completely, um, freaked out, yes, freaked out on McCoy. Told him he vas being whiney and if ze keptin vas really his friend, zen he should be happy for him. Zen he tossed him from his quarters and shut ze door in his face."

"Really? Huh, go Scotty. How'd you find all this out Pavel?"

"Keenser told me. Scotty vas in a bad mood after zat, because McCoy drank all his good scotch."

"Explains why we didn't see him for two days," Uhura grinned. "He was probably holed up in his quarters or deep in a Jeffries tube, moping about the lack of alcohol. It's a shame, now Leonard will be even more ornery because he'll be sober. I tell you, I do not envy Kirk when we finally find him."

* * *

Jim didn't look back, though he could feel Spock's gaze locked on him like an itch between his shoulder blades, even when he was sure he was out of his eye line. He kept his pace, wondering idly if Spock would come after him, and if it would be to apologize or simply because it was his duty. He huffed irritably and picked up speed, hands balled into fists at his sides. Damned stupid Vulcan, never should've let him come on leave with him, should've just cruised town on his own, picking up bedmates whenever the urge struck him, stupid fucking haircut, stupid eyebrows, stupid ears, stupid, stupid, stupid!

All this whirled in his head as he trudged farther and farther from that tiny dot of civilization that was apparently the only one on the whole damned planet. The terrain eased into hills that slowly became jagged cliffs that jutted from the ground and cast Jim in wonderfully cool shade. He leaned back against the smoothest part he could find, wiping sweat from his brow. He was worn down, tired, still hungry, and actually feeling a tiny bit lonely with no one to talk to. But hell if he was going back now. Jim pushed himself to his feet and set off, searching the cliff walls for a possible cave where he could spend at least the night. Whatever sun the planet had was starting to sink towards the horizon and the shadows were growing thicker.

"C'mon, there's gotta be a cave here somewhere," Jim muttered, brushing his hands along the cliffs. Finally, after what felt like hours of walking and dragging his fingers along rock until they were dusty and chaffed, he stumbled into a tiny niche where he could hunker down. Jim crouched down and wriggled into it, scraping his knees and elbows and jabbing his hand on a rock, and found it widened out deeper in, and he could stretch out comfortably. It was only when he was propped up, using the ripped remains of his shirt that he tore off as a pillow, that he realized he had no food and really no way of getting any. Nor did he have any means to make a fire and as they sky darkened it got colder, until goose bumps stood out of his flesh and his breath plumed in front of him. And after his dramatic, pissed off departure there was no way he was going to go traipsing back to curl up next to Spock the space heater. Instead, he curled himself into a tight ball, arms wrapped around his drawn up legs, and tried to sleep.

* * *

Spock was faring little better across the planet, despite having the escape pod. The cold night was making the joints in his hands ache as he pried the pod open and struggled inside. The lid snapped shut behind him and he shifted in an attempt to lie in a somewhat comfortable position. His thoughts almost immediately drifted to Jim, though in truth he hadn't been far from them, only pushed aside temporarily. He wondered, no hoped, he was alright, alone on this unknown planet in the cold. He regretted his words earlier, and would have liked to have said that he hadn't meant them, but the fact of the matter was there was a grain of truth to them. Where they had yet to be bonded completely on Vulcan their bond _was_ weak. Also, if he was being honest with himself, he still had his doubts that Jim wouldn't get tired of him for some reason or another and move on. On one hand, it was most likely a point in their favor that Jim thus far had been the only one to cause his emotions to flare up; on the other, when one took into consideration that the emotions he caused were mainly frustration, confusion, doubt, and occasionally even anger, that was hardly promising. He sighed softly and shut his eyes, ignoring the painful throb of the bruise on his jaw and having every intention of meditating until light came once more and he came to a decision of what to about Jim.

* * *

Had anything happened to be strolling along the cliffs when light returned, and had that something happened to pass by a cave, they would have heard a rather loud crack followed by excessive swearing. The crack was the absolutely brutal ice that had settled on Jim in his sleep breaking apart as he stretched awake, and the swearing was his natural reaction to waking up coated in ice and not being able to open his ice frosted eyelashes. He shook himself like a dog, flinging ice crystals everywhere and scrambled out into the light, hoping to thaw himself out. He shuddered and chattered his teeth, still cursing as the ice melted but soaked his pants and left him still cold. His stomach gurgled and made its displeasure at being still empty known.

"I know damn it, I know," Jim growled, patting his stomach. Maybe…maybe he could sneak back to the escape pod, wait for Spock to wander away and dig around quickly for some kind of food. Most escape pods, wherever they originated from had food stored in them. By that point he would eat just about anything, so long as it didn't try and eat him first. He would even consider swallowing his pride and making nice with Spock if it meant he got to swallow some food as well. Resigning himself to this, he stuffed his hands in his pockets and started trudging back in the direction of the pod.

He was just barely out of the hills when he saw it, or rather saw him. Spock walking slowly towards him, seeming to materialize out of nowhere and looking as pulled together as always. Jim wouldn't give him the satisfaction of running to him, and instead kept his slow pace, meeting him in the middle.

"Decided to come looking for me then?" he drawled, crossing his arms across his bare chest.

Spock gave the barest of nods.

"Not talking?"

More silence.

"Fine, be Mr. High and Mighty Stick up his Ass Vulcan. Let's get back to the escape pod. I wanna eat."

Again, Spock inclined his head and Jim started walking in front of him, almost jogging in an attempt to annoy Spock and make him run to keep up. He barely made it five steps when a hand latched onto the join of his neck and shoulder, pinching the nerve and knocking him out. He crumbled to the ground, eyes rolled back in his head. Spock smiled down at him.

* * *

Spock threw open the hatch of the escape pod, blinking in the light. Jim was standing before him, an odd smile plastered on his face. Spock arched one brow and stepped out. He reached out hesitantly, testing the bond between them and got nothing in response. The Jim before him was null, void, almost like static. His Jim had yet to master putting up walls around his thoughts and keeping them to himself, and thus was never a void.

"You are not Jim."

The false Jim shook his head negative.

"You know where he is?"

False Jim nodded, still smiling widely.

"You will take me to him." Not a question now, an order.

Once more a nod and false Jim beckoned Spock to follow him across the planet, never speaking one word.

_A/N: So there it is. I hope to not leave it so long again. I'm back on track after everything and know just where this is going. Hope you all enjoyed. _


	14. Chapter 14

_A/N: I can say in all honesty…that I have nothing to say. Nope. Nothing at all. Wait, oh yeah, I got another fic idea, Jim and Spock of course. But I don't wanna give away a lot, wanna keep it a surprise. All I'll say is this…jumpsuits. That is all. _

The false Jim led Spock for hours across the vast desert of the planet, past the cliffs were Jim had slept and beyond. Spock didn't bother to ask where they were going, or how much farther it would be. His only concern was finding the real Jim, his Jim, and getting off this unknown planet and back on the Enterprise where they belonged. From there…well, he supposed he and Jim would have to have a talk along the same vein as the one he and Nyota had shortly before they broke up. That wasn't what he wanted, nor was it what Jim wanted surely, but after their last conversation it was inevitable. The chances of Jim desiring to remain with him after that were very slim. Slim enough that he did not wish to calculate them.

So caught in his thoughts was he that Spock didn't notice at first that there was a building in sight, immense even from the distance they were at. As they got closer, he could see that it was actually a collection of cylindrical buildings, with one central cylinder and the smaller ones joined by covered catwalks, branching out like flower petals. Each cylinder had a huge domed glass roof that sparkled in the light, nearly blinding him at moments.

Spock cast out with his thoughts, searching for Jim and finding nothing but an eerie silence.

"Jim is there?" he demanded of the not-Jim. He glanced back at him, and saw he was flickering…fading around the edges. With an impulsiveness that startled him, Spock reached out and tried to close his hand around the other's arm, only to have it sink in. He met the other's wide gaze.

"You are a hologram."

The other nodded slowly and gestured with his head to the collection of buildings. Spock sighed and kept pace, wanting very much to get to the bottom of this. The minute he pulled open the thick door set in the main building the hologram vanished like it had never been and Spock was left alone in a darkness so complete he thought he'd gone blind. He held his hand up in front of his face and couldn't see it. However, it was far from silent in the building. Sporadic crackles were punctuated by echoing snaps, as though a giant electrical current was being run somewhere. Spock paused, listening keenly. There was a sound nearly hidden by the crackle and snap, but he could just barely hear it…a low moaning, piteous and pain filled and yet still very recognizable as Jim.

* * *

Uhura jerked awake in her bed, looking around wildly trying to figure out what had woken her. Just as she was about to dismiss it, she heard someone outside her door.

"Just a sec!" She hurriedly grabbed a robe, fumbling into it and running her hands through her mussed hair. The door slid aside smoothly to reveal Scotty, whose eyes widened slightly at the sight of her. She arched an eyebrow in almost the exact same manner as Spock, and he shook himself, coughing awkwardly.

"Sorry for wakin' ya lass, but I was just lookin' over that broken ship and I think you'll want ta see this."

"Alright, give me just a sec to get dressed and I'll be right there," Uhura ducked back into her room and threw on a uniform before brushing her hair into a high, tight ponytail. She zipped up her boots and, gathering some manner of calm and dignity, met Scotty in the hall once more. "What is it?"

"You'll have to see it for yourself. I'm not expert in this, I'd hate to get our hopes up," Scotty explained, leading her down the hall and deep into the belly of the Enterprise. She glanced sidelong at him and could see he was practically humming with excitement. Whatever he'd found, be it good news or bad, was fascinating to him, and he obviously couldn't wait to get his hands on it. She was surprised he'd taken the time to find her and not dove in head first. Uhura smiled and shook her head, quickening her pace to match his until they were nearly racing down to engineering.

Keenser was waiting impatiently by the chunks of ship when they arrived, tapping his tiny foot. Scotty shot him a glare, and he rolled his eyes, taking a step back to allow Uhura to examine the debris. It was for the most part scorched and chipped and generally in poor condition. She almost asked Scotty what the big deal was until she saw it. Under everything were markings…no, not just markings, letters almost, unrecognizable but distinctly familiar.

"These are the same markings that were on the shuttle that took Kirk and Spock!" she exclaimed, standing up.

"Thought so," Scotty nodded, "But, o'course I wanted to be sure. If you say it is, I'll believe it."

Uhura was only half listening as she paced in circles around him. "We could then, with a little tinkering, determine the origins of the ship and with luck, find the captain and Spock. Scotty-''

"Already on it," he called, disappearing behind the chunks of debris with Keenser. With a brief wave he was gone, and Uhura was left alone. She returned to her room to search once more through her database of known languages, hoping that something would be at least comparative. Even that would be enough to go on. Or maybe they'd come across some life form in their travelling that would be able to not only decipher the language but give them directions to where it originated. She smiled lightly; _Go 2 light years that way, take a left at the black hole and if you come to the red giant you've gone too far. _Obviously she needed more sleep.

* * *

Spock made his way to the wall of the structure, laying his palm flat against it. Jim's voice had come from above, which meant higher levels, which meant stairs. If only he could find them. He walked along the cylinder, keeping his hand pressed to the wall until he banged his shins on the sharp edge of the first step. Suppressing a wince as well as the urge to employ not only a few Vulcan curses but some of Jim's choice favorites, he stepped up. The stairs wound their way up the cylinder, and though they had felt metal when he'd walked into them, they didn't betray his footsteps with echoes, for which he was grateful. He did not wish to give away his arrival as of yet, although it was entirely possible they knew already, and had only just started to harm Jim in retaliation. Whatever the case, the important fact was they were harming Jim, his captain and, until further notice anyway, lover and that was not allowed.

There was a wide, tall doorway at the top of the stairs, and light was coming from there. That was also where Jim's cries were coming from, and was the source of the electrical hum and snap. Spock paused just outside the doorway, wanting to go in, yet knowing he had no weapons of any sort and he didn't know what they might have. Or even who they were, what they were. Inside the room there was a particularly vicious crackle punctuated by Jim letting out a shriek that tapered into a low moan. That was it then, Spock steeled his resolve and took the first step in. Once his eyes adjusted to the sudden light, he rather wished he hadn't gone in at all. It was…unpleasant, to say the least.

* * *

Jim was bound by manacles set into the wall, the heavy cuffs cutting into his wrists and ankles as he sagged into them. A vast array of tubes and wires extended out from his flesh, like some grotesque spider web with Jim as the fly in the center. There were tubes up his nose and down his throat, cutting into each bicep, into the flesh stretched over his ribs, his legs and his neck. So many were there that at first Spock didn't notice that Jim was nude and bleeding from where the tubes had cut into his skin. Some of them were pumping who knew what into him, while others rushed things out and deeper into the lab to unidentifiable machines and instruments. Jim whimpered as his body twitched and more blood seeped from his wounds, his eyes clenched shut.

Taking quick strides, not running but close, Spock crossed the room to Jim, reaching up to caress his cheek. Jim jerked and yelped before he blinked open his eyes and gazed blearily at Spock.

"Sp-Spock?" his voice was dry and cracked from screaming, and he licked his lips. Spock wished vaguely that he had water to give him. "What're you doing here? How'd you get here?"

"I am rescuing you of course. As to how I got here, I followed a hologram of yourself."

"Me too. It was you, but not you. Could've been you. Did that nerve pinching thing. Knocked me out, wound up here. Now it's the real you."

"Yes, it is. Do you know who took you Jim? Who did this to you?" Spock asked, attempting to pull the tubes from Jim with minimal discomfort. As it was, Jim gagged violently as the tube in his throat was gently extricated and tossed over Spock's shoulder. Once the fit of coughing passed, the tubes in his nose were removed, and left him sneezing and with a twitching nose.

"I don't know *achoo!* who took me. Haven't seen them, I've just been life like this, with all the tubes and it really fucking hurts!" His voice rose in pitch until it was a near piteous moan that hurt Spock to hear. He gently brushed Jim's sweat dampened hair from his equally sweaty forehead, trying to project some measure of calm to him. But whatever his captors had done to him, whatever they may have put into his system, it blocked their bond. However, for the time being, he wouldn't alert Jim to that fact. No need to cause him more stress, for all he knew, it would wear off in time. The more important thing was getting Jim down before his captors, whomever they happened to be, returned from wherever they were.

"Spock? Where are you going?!" Jim yelped as Spock stepped back a ways.

"I am not leaving Jim, do not worry. I would just like to get a better sense of the room, on the very slim chance that there is some mechanism to undo the manacles." He circled the room, eyes searching for something, anything that would release Jim. The technology was foreign to him though, and he could either look at the release mechanism and not know it, or touch something that would inevitably harm Jim even more than he already was. Unable to repress a slight feeling of annoyance, he walked back to where Jim hung and wrapped his hand around one of the manacles. It was very firmly bolted into the wall; the possibility that he could pull it out and not cause Jim anymore pain was very doubtful. Yet it was, unfortunately, the only option. He braced one foot on the wall and, with much maneuvering and squeezing and chaffing, got both hands around the manacle enough that he could pull.

"Are you ready?"

"As I'll ever be. Give it a try Spock."

The wall groaned, and the metal bit into both their skin but still the manacle remained attached to the wall. Jim gave encouragement, and tried to help, pulling with Spock. They paused a moment to catch their breath and redoubled their efforts, straining until they heard a creak and a pop as one of the bolts flew out and went pinging against the machinery across the room. Jim beamed at Spock, who returned with a small smile of his own, pushing his damp bangs out of his eyes. He threw himself into his task, twisting the now loose manacle and jerking until his shoulders ached and his hands were rubbed raw. With one final effort he tore it loose and sent himself flying backwards to land on his ass and skid along the floor a few feet. Spock expected Jim to laugh at him despite the pain he was surely in, not the sudden gasp he heard. He leaned back to see what he had stopped against, and thought for a moment it was a mirror. But of course that made no sense. It had to be the hologram that had lured Jim here.

"You are a very poor imitation," he said, getting to his feet. "I would never allow myself to look so angry."

Jim snorted; Spock was actually trading snarky repertoire with himself! Shame the holograms didn't seem capable of speech. He could only imagine the logical banter that would be flung back and forth, the eyebrow action, all the pointed ears…mmm…two Spock could be very, very nice. Jim shook his head; obviously he was starting to feel a little better if he was considering all the possibilities of two Spocks…or three…maybe four if he was up to it.

_Stop it Jim. You are in danger right now and oh yeah, everything fucking hurts! Plus, none of those Spocks would be the real one and only Spock. He's the only one that matters. _Thus re-focused, Jim turned his attention to the fight that was most definitely brewing between the real Spock and the false one. They circled each other, reminding Jim of large graceful jungle cats. Nothing wrong with enjoying the show, he supposed as he tried to pull more of the tubes out of his flesh with his free hand. It wasn't an easy process, and caused pain to flare up until his entire body throbbed in one continuous ache. Blood ran down from where the tubes had been in steady rivulets, pattering to the floor and staining his skin. Jim didn't realize how much blood he was loosing though, until his vision started to go grey around the edges, and raising his free hand to jerk out the tubes and wires seemed to take more and more effort. With a low groan he slumped in his bonds, further chaffing his wrist and ankles and drawing Spock's attention. It was just the opportunity the false Spock needed. He swung his leg up in an impressive roundhouse kick, and caught Spock under the jaw, hitting the same spot Jim had punched before and driving Spock to his knees. His head was grabbed and driven into a raised knee, and he was out, crumpling painfully to the floor with a loud smack.

* * *

Jim was the first to come to, both his hands once more bound, the tubes and wires reinserted. A soft sound caught his attention, and he looked to his right as much as his bonds would allow. Spock was there, bound more tightly by heavy bars running from across the top of his chest down to his ankles and bolted into the wall. His head lolled to the side, and revealed the massive bruise spreading across his jaw up his cheek, as well as the one in the center of his forehead. Tubes exactly like the ones in him ran in and out of Spock in the gaps between the bars.

"Spock? Hey Spock, wake up," Jim hissed. In an instant Spock was alert, flexing to try and remove himself from his bonds. But they had learned, and anticipated as such, hence the more intense binding. He sagged, his eyes falling shut.

"I failed. I tried to save both you and myself, and I have failed."

"I appreciate the effort though. You tried; no one can fault you for that," Jim shrugged and winced as his shoulders protested the movement. He shifted so he could look better at Spock. "Besides, you're making it sound like this is the end. And what have we learned about me and no-win scenarios?"

"You don't believe in them," Spock recited, managing to put just the right amount of sarcasm in his voice so that he didn't sound sarcastic at all. If Jim called him on it, he'd be able to declare innocence.

"Exactly. I just need to think a minute and something will come to me."

"Why did you not do that before I arrived?"

Jim looked sheepish, ducking his head as his cheeks turned pink. "I'll let you in on a secret Spock. I _might've_ succumbed to a _teensy_ bit of despair for a bit. As in…and it pains me to say this, given up. Until you came along of course. And if I find out that you told everyone aboard the Enterprise I'll never play chess with you again."

"I believe the phrase is 'my lips are sealed' Jim."

"Thanks," Jim screwed his eyes shut as he thought. "So, we're strapped to the walls, you more than me. We've no clue who kidnapped us or why. The only contact we've had is with holograms of ourselves. We've got these tubes going into us, don't know what it is. I'm gonna guess it's not poison seeing as we're still alive, unless it's slow acting in which case-no, no it's not poisonous, and we're going to get out of here." He shuddered, rattling the manacles and let out a heavy sigh. "Ok, anyway, while all these tubes ache, it's tolerable. I'm not bleeding anymore, and it doesn't look like you are. However, and this is a big one, I'm still naked!"

"Indeed. It is curious that I remained clothed while you did not. It makes one wonder if there is a purpose behind that," Spock murmured.

"Well, my shirt was actually gone before I got here. It sort of…fell apart. It happens. I really, really hope that you're wrong and there's not some purpose behind my being naked. I would prefer if it just happened. I know it sounds odd…spontaneous nudity, but better than the thought that there's a reason for it."

"Given that we have been left in relative peace since I arrived, I would surmise that there is no purpose and it is rather a product of your kidnapping," Spock replied evenly. The words had barely left his mouth when the lights blinked out, leaving them in perfect darkness with the only sound their breathing and the hum and crackle of the machinery.

* * *

"Oh god damn it! We had to say something didn't we? We just had to open our mouths and say that maybe things were looking up. When will we learn? And when did I start sounding like Bones?"

"Jim, do not insult yourself."

"I'm not Spock. I'm just saying he's the pessimistic one usually. I actually wish he was here too, he'd probably have his flask on him."

Spock forced down the scathing remark that had nearly burst forth at that. But it was difficult not to point out the futility of both of them getting roaring drunk and how surely if Dr. McCoy was there, Spock would have to cause him so manner of bodily harm if only to cease the complaining he would no doubt do. Instead, he leaned his head forward to better see Jim and to urge him to be quiet. "I believe we are about to meet our enigmatic captors," he whispered, resting his head back against the wall and relieving the strain on his neck. Indeed there was a faint glow coming from the door, wavering and silvery, reminding Jim of the quality of light one could find in an aquarium. It was…pretty, in an odd, unnerving sort of way.

The light moved closer, taking shape the nearer it got until finally it resolved into two vaguely humanoid shapes only a little taller than the two of them.

"Allasomorphs," Spock murmured softly.

"What nows?" Jim stretched forward to look at Spock.

"Allasomorphs. Anthropomorphic shape shifters capable of altering their molecular structure into that of other species. They are the inhabitants of Daled IV and it's moons," Spock recited, sounding as though he was reciting directly from a book.

"Alright, alright already. What do they want?" Jim asked.

"I...do not know. Nor do I know why they are appearing in their true form. Typically, they take on some form or another to communicate," Spock said, and he actually sounded perplexed, which to Jim wasn't a good sign. When the genius Vulcan had no clue what was happening, the shit had pretty much hit the fan. He sighed quietly, allowing himself a moment of self pity and something pretty close to dejection. God damn it all, he was cold, naked, sore, and bloody. And now Spock had no clue what the hell was going on. He wanted to get back to his ship, have a long, hot bath and forget any of this had ever happened. Preferably through the use of copious amounts of alcohol. His moment of wallowing in self pity turned quickly to anger, as it often did, and he fought with renewed strength at his bonds.

"God damn it! Let us out of here! Why the hell did you take us?! Talk to us damn it!" he raged, struggling until his wrists were raw and blood flowed in rivulets down his arms and chest and legs. He sagged in his chains, panting heavily, coated in a thin sheen of sweat.

"Calm yourself Jim, else you will pass out once more," Spock urged.

"Calm myself?! How can I-ohh," Jim shook his head, fighting off a wave of nausea and dizziness. "Ok, I'm calm. Perfectly calm," he growled, flexing his hands into fists. He took a deep breath, letting it out slow and faced the Allasomorphs who hadn't moved through the whole ordeal.

"Who are you? And why did you kidnap us?"

There was no response for a span of heartbeats, and then one of the Allasomorphs shimmered brightly before shifting into Jim. It was obviously a strenuous process, and difficult to maintain, as the edges of the figure blurred and wavered. It spoke in Jim's voice, albeit stammering over the simplest of words and losing the thread of what he was saying.

"We are the last inhabitants of this planet. We come from Daled IV, as the Vulcan said, trying to escape the civil war that has long ravaged the planet between the two factions of those living on the day time side of the planet, and those living on the night side. Our ancestors who were the first to escape to this planet did not agree with the civil war."

The second Allasomorph shifted into Spock and picked up the thread of the story. "They came looking for peace. And found it here, free from the constraints of Daled IV and the Federation. Until recently, when the sickness came. It wiped out all but the two of us, yet we two are beginning to feel the effects of it. It has affected our ability to shape shift, as you can surely see."

"Explains the holograms but not why you captured us," Jim snarled.

The Jim Allasomorph continued; "When the sickness had just started, we requested aid from the Federation. However, as we are not a part of it, we were denied assistance. After that, our population decreased steadily. The more it decreased, the more we asked for help. Each time, we were denied until we two were the only ones left."

Jim swallowed thickly, getting a sense of where this was going. He recognized the look on his own face; that pure indignant rage, the determination to right whatever wrong had been committed no matter the cost.

"So, what are you going to do?"

The two shared a look, as if deciding whether or not they should tell them. The Spock one inclined his head and gestured for the Jim one to go ahead.

"We intend to get our revenge on the Federation one way or another."

"And you need us why?"

"We intend to use you to stabilize these forms thereby allowing us to more easily invade the Federation. You two are the most famous captain and first officer, and have high security clearance as a result. Unfortunately for you two, the process of stabilization is very painful and will result in your deaths," the Spock one concluded emotionlessly. "It's been happening as we speak actually. In fact, I would estimate you only have roughly a half hour left."

_A/N: good sweet lord. This took me a long time. But, school's over and while I'll most likely have a job this summer, it won't be too bad. I don't intend to neglect like this again. _


	15. Chapter 15

_A/N: So, I know I said I didn't intend to neglect this again. Well, you know what they say about good intentions and all that. It's my job that's been killing me. It's all in my profile, my job and such, in case anybody actually wants to know. And now…on with the show._

_ :if I were real: nope, not a crossover, but not a bad guess. AU is actually how I'd describe it._

"You cowardly bastards! What the hell is this going to prove?" Jim twisted and pulled at his restraints, the adrenaline coursing through his veins keeping him from noticing the blood pumping steadily out of him. Only when his vision went grey and hazy and slid to the side did he stop and shake his head, trying to stay conscious.

"Jim, perhaps it would be prudent to cease your struggles. You surely do not have much blood left in you to lose, and I would rather not endure this on my own," Spock murmured. Jim sagged, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he panted for breath. He glanced as best he could at Spock, noted the sickly shade of green he was turning, the sweat beading on his brow.

"You're right, I know you're right. But what're we supposed to do? They just left us here; we could escape if I could only think of a plan. Except…except every time I try…my thoughts go…fuzzy…" Jim's voice trailed off, and he lolled in his chains.

"Jim!"

Jim snapped alert, eyes wide. "Wha' happened?"

"You almost lost consciousness. I fear that if you continue to do so, there may come a point when you do not regain it."

"Die you mean."

Spock's silence was enough of a confirmation, and for perhaps only the third or so time in his life, Jim felt an ice stab of fear. It was enough to clear his head momentarily, and he realized he had to do something, anything to keep conscious.

"Talk to me Spock. Keep me talking if you can, but don't let me slip away again."

* * *

After a moment's hesitation, Spock began to talk. He told Jim of his childhood, growing up the outcast, filled with roiling human emotions but forced to repress them. The consequences if he didn't manage to keep them at bay, not only from his classmates but his teachers as well. How even at Starfleet he'd felt like an oddity, and had thrown himself into his studies to make up for it, but had still felt the stares, heard the whispers. He paused, and then went into his courtship with Nyota, how she had been the first to get under his skin, not truly his t'hy'la, but leaving the way open for Jim. He talked of places he'd like to go once they were back on the Enterprise; of Pon Farr, of the Halloween party Jim wanted to have, what costumes they'd get, the candy they'd have. How he really didn't mind Jim being the only one that called bunny, as long as he never did it in front of the crew. He suggested getting a cat of their very own, maybe if Pancake had kittens they could have one, and name it after another breakfast food. French toast, Frenchie for short, or Crepe, or anything…

Jim listened for a time as Spock bared his soul, adding something when it came to him. How maybe they could be Batman and Robin for Halloween, and Spock could be Robin, 'cause he was like Batman's second in command and he thought Spock would look awesome in tights. And that he thought French Toast was a good name for a kitten whose mom was named Pancake. His attention faded in and out as he spoke, causing him to lose his train of thought and repeat things he'd just said, until he stopped completely, alarming Spock more than he cared to admit.

"Jim?" he craned his neck, trying to see if Jim still breathed. "Jim!" As a last resort, Spock reached out with his thoughts, seeking the tremulous but ever growing bond he and Jim shared. When, after tense seconds, he felt an answering flicker, a sign that Jim still lived, he could have thrown all Vulcan propriety to the wind and cried with relief. Until of course he was jolted back to the harsh reality of how futile it was. In less than a half hours time, that flicker would be extinguished, as would his own life. Perhaps…perhaps it was better to let Jim go peacefully? His captain may not believe in no win scenarios, but Spock lived in a world of logic and statistics, which said that their chances of escape and survival were, to put it mildly, slim to none. He thought all this through, considered letting Jim go, but his human side rallied, and convinced him that it would be better to go out _with_ Jim than after him, knowing he'd let him go.

* * *

"Scotty, you are a genius."

"So you've said…but I could stand to hear it a few more times."

"Don't push it."

"Fair enough."

"Are you two done? I can't exactly concentrate with you two back there," Sulu glanced over his shoulder at Scotty and Uhura, the former of which was in the Captain's chair, the latter next to it. Scotty shot him a glare, while Uhura rolled her eyes and returned to her station. Sulu returned the look; it was bad enough trying to navigate with Bones pacing the bridge, snapping at everyone, a hypo tucked into his pocket. They knew he was just worried about Jim, but really, it was getting obnoxious. If Scotty wasn't needed on the bridge, Sulu would've already had him take the good doctor for a couple of rounds.

Despite his annoyance, Sulu had to agree with Uhura that Scotty was a genius. He had managed to not only discover the origins of the strange ship, but had the Enterprise following its ion signature right back to the source. How he had accomplished it was nothing short of a miracle, something the engineer claimed only he could have pulled off…with a bit of help from Keenser of course. There truthfully wasn't much for Sulu and Chekov to do, other than keep them from drifting off course. But they were all tense; they didn't know what could have been happening to Jim and Spock while they'd been captured, or even if they were still alive. However, the first person to suggest that they weren't alive, an unfortunate red shirt fresh from Starfleet they had picked up a few months ago, had gotten the combined wrath of Bones and Uhura coming down on them. The poor kid had nearly burst into tears and backed off, babbling apologies.

* * *

"Vhat do you suppose has happened to them?" Chekov asked softly, swiveling in his seat to face Sulu. He had Cocoa in his lap, cooing placidly.

"Wish I knew," Sulu sighed heavily. "It's sad isn't it? They go on leave, sparks fly, romance and all that happens, and then…"

"Kidnapped," Chekov answered sadly. He sniffed, stroking Cocoa lightly. "I hope they're alright. They vill be, von't they Hikaru?"

Sulu didn't have the heart to tell him that people rarely kidnapped other people for good intentions. "Of course they will," he assured him, kicking himself mentally. "They're Kirk and Spock; if anyone can get through anything, it's them. I bet…I bet they've already taken care of whoever kidnapped them, and are waiting for us to come pick them up, and they'll stroll onboard, and Kirk will go 'What took you so long? Scotty, out of my chair.' And then Spock will tell him he's being illogical, and we'll laugh and everything will go back to normal."

Chekov blinked at him, before a small smile turned up his lips. He leaned forward and pressed a light kiss to Sulu's cheek. "Thank you, Hikaru, for telling me that, even if you don't mean it. I appreciate the gesture."

"Heh, yeah, I tried."

"It vas a good try. 'A' for effort."

"Brat," Sulu spun Chekov's chair slightly, catching Scotty's eye as he did so. The older man was frowning hard at him; yeah he was being just a bit hypocritical, chastising Scotty for being distracting and here he was, doing the same. Sulu shrugged apologetically, swiveling Chekov's chair to face the controls once more. As he did so, an alarm sounded, startling them all. Chekov let out a panicked yell as Cocoa the tribble flew from his hands across the bridge. Miraculously, the ball of fluff was caught by one still pissed and worried looking doctor, who handed it off wordlessly to the visibly shaken and pale navigator.

"Thank you doc-''

"Don't mention it," McCoy interrupted, his gaze already on Scotty. "Mind telling us what the hell that was…genius?"

Scotty's jaw tightened, and he almost let it go, but he'd been provoked beyond endurance. "That," he said shortly, "was the alarm saying we're nearing the planet that great hulking ship came from. It's the alarm saying we're nearing our Captain and First Officer, so you can stop pacing the bloody bridge like an expectant father glowering at us like it's our fault they were kidnapped."

* * *

Sulu was sure that were they on one of those old high school sitcom type shows that he used to watch when he was younger, the audience track would have been going "Oooooh!" As it was, all heads turned to look between the engineer and doctor. McCoy had stopped dead, every muscle gone rigid except for his hands, which were clenching and unclenching as though he longed to wrap them around Scotty's neck. Scotty had gone red in the face, glaring at McCoy, half standing from the captain chair. Very carefully, Sulu pushed Chekov behind him, thinking very seriously about shoving the boy under the console on the off chance that when the fists flew the hypos did as well.

"Are you two quite done?" Uhura had gotten to her feet, striding between the two and giving them a look of pure venom. "There are some things a little more important right now than you two sniping at each other. Namely how are we going to get onto this planet as undetected as possible and find and rescue our captain and first officer? Any suggestions?" She looked at them each in turn, none of them able to hold her gaze for long. "Didn't think so. We need to plan, gentlemen. If you can't play nice with each other, you won't get to play at all."

"Yes teacher," Sulu muttered, eliciting a high pitched giggle from Chekov, quickly stifled behind his hands. Sulu shot him an "it wasn't that funny" sort of look, getting a shrug in response. No, it really hadn't been that funny, but the youngest member of the bridge crew was nervous, idly tossing Cocoa from one hand to the other while the ball of fluff cooed placidly. He set Cocoa on the console, trailing after Sulu as they traipsed out to one of the conference rooms to lay out a plan of action. Once more, Uhura had to shout down McCoy and Scotty while they argued over the pros and cons of storming in guns blazing versus a more subtle approach.

* * *

"Enough!" Uhura said sharply. "Yes Chekov?"

Chekov had been practically dancing in his seat, arm raised.

"Vell, no offense to Doctor McCoy, but I believe Mr. Scott is right."

"Why's that?"

"Because, ve have been orbiting above the planet for a while now. If zey were going to attack, or even knew ve were here, zey vould have done something about it. Ve have received no sign from the planet zhat zere is any life to be found. I think it is safe to say we can beam down vith no problem….But ve should bring phasers just in case," he added.

"Well put lad," Scotty beamed down at him.

"You're just saying that because he agreed with you," McCoy snarled.

"And you'd do the same if he'd agreed with you," Scotty shot back.

Down the table, Chekov let out another snort of laughter, a blush creeping up his neck and across his cheeks. Sulu leaned away from where he'd just whispered something in the younger man's ear looking as though he too was trying not to laugh.

"Something you'd like to share?" Uhura asked, one eyebrow arched.

Sulu flushed as well, and mumbled a negative. He certainly wouldn't share that he'd just told Pavel that McCoy and Scotty should get a room if they were going to follow in the footsteps of the captain and first officer. Especially with the subject of his whispering two seats away.

"Right then. So, we agree then to beaming down as is?"

"Hardly. I'm agreeing under protest," McCoy griped.

"Protest all you want Leo, it's our plan."

"Easy for you to say. _I'm_ the one that's gotta patch you all up when the genius's plan fails and you all end up in pieces with eight different kinds of infections, limbs barely hanging on-''

"If you'd rather stay here, you're more than welcome to," Uhura called over her shoulder as she led the way to the transporter.

"Hell no! You think I'll just sit up here alone, twiddling my thumbs waiting for you to get back?"

"It's what we were hoping," Scotty whispered under his breath.

"I'm coming where I can keep an eye on you all and maybe, just maybe keep you from getting too badly damaged."

"If you insist then."

They all stepped onto the transporter pad, once Scotty had hurriedly explained to the engineer at the controls just what it was he was supposed to be doing. He rejoined them muttering darkly about how they just gave away engineering positions nowadays, regardless of whether said "engineer" was actually competent or not, and if that boy harmed his lady in any way, he had better hope he had been paying attention when Scotty taught them all his formula for transwarp beaming because he would need it to get away from him with all his bits intact. He was still complaining when they energized and reappeared down on the planet.

* * *

No one came charging at them, weapons drawn, ready to impale them for daring to land on their planet. Even so, the landing party remained tense, more than one of them with their hands hovering near their phasers.

"Where do you suppose Jim and Spock are? Or anyone for that matter?" Uhura queried.

Sulu gazed around, one hand shielding his eyes. Something large jutted vertically from the horizon in the distance, the only sign that the planet may have been inhabited as far as he could see. "Maybe, and this is just a guess mind you, but maybe in that direction." He pointed off towards the structure, and four sets of eyes followed where he was pointing.

"Well, I say if they're not there, p'raps someone there might know where we could find our captain and first officer. Worth a look eh?" Scotty reholstered his phaser and started off in the direction of the imposing structure that even from a distance was an impressive display. But still, it _was_ at a distance, a rather long distance in fact, one that had Chekov begging for a piggy back ride from Sulu and Uhura wishing that her Starfleet issued boots had a bit more arch support. By the time they reached the vast building she'd likely have blisters the size of Texas on her feet.

* * *

The main door was ajar, a sliver of light from outside their only source to peer into the dark. It was eerily quiet but for a faint, rhythmic pounding drifting down the spiral stairs, and on the tail of that a gurgling moan cut off quickly by a sickening snap. They looked at one another, eyes wide, wondering what that could've possibly been.

"Nowhere to go but up," Uhura said, hoping she souded braver than she felt.

"But zat is vhere the sound is coming from," Chekov whispered anxiously. He stayed directly behind Sulu as they climbed the stairs, one hand on the pilot's back, the other trailing along the wall. There was a light up ahead, a doorway, where the sounds where coming directly from.

"Phasers to stun I think," Scotty said in a hushed voice. They all nodded wordlessly, arming themselves and preparing to go through the door way. What they were not prepared for was to run nearly headlong into Spock. They were even less prepared for Spock to fall to his knees at the sight of them, relief in his eyes, his arms cradling a barely alive Jim.

_A/N: so, bit of a short one, but I figured, after this long a wait, better a shorter update than none at all. Oh my god, seriously. Thank god work is done, and maybe, just maybe I'll have some free time, what with having an easier class schedule now that school's started. I hate neglecting things, especially when I've finally, finally, figured out how this is ending. _


	16. Chapter 16

So,my dear lovely readers, it has come to my attention that there's some bot thing hassling us all called RedBooton, or something like that. As you may or may not know, it's basically going through stories and deciding what violate the ToS regarding MA ratings vs. M ratings. It's hardly differentiating between the two, and deciding what goes and what stays based on key words regardless of context. And as you may know, my fics are well…they're not hard core, but they're not like, a K rating. So, I'm considering moving to until this settles down. If it settles down. Because apparently, the higher ups at have been made aware of how the bot violates ToS itself, but either haven't gotten to it, or just don't care. General consensus seems to be that they don't care. I don't know. But I do know I don't want my fics taken down by them. Hence the move. Now, I don't know if all of you are 18 or older, which is how old you gotta be for unfortunately, and I don't condone lying about your age. So, sadly, some of you, if you are younger than 18, may have to go without. This is only if I do move though. It's all very up in the air right now. I'm leaving my final decision until say….Monday the 13th, unless something drastic happens. Hopefully this will all be taken care of, though I shan't hold my breath. Sorry about this, I wouldn't if I didn't think it necessary.

~PirateTurtle4


	17. Chapter 17

Hello again all my dear lovely readers. I come to you now with a decision. I'm not deleting my fics from . I am however, still thinking about joining up with or even getting a livejournal to post on. And what I will do is simply copy, paste and save my own personal favorite fics of mine, and load them onto my new account on wherever I go. Simply as a precaution mind you. That way, for those of you under 18, you can still read and enjoy and all. And, for those of you over 18, if you wanna check my new account on a new site, if and when I make it, I'll still be PirateTurtle4. I've been considering doing something like this anyway, purely because I'm finding some of the same restrictions on that I found on Quizilla when I used to post there, restrictions which sent me here. If I create a new account on a site, it will more than likely be , simply because LiveJournal confuses me. I've no idea how to make that happen.

Also, a couple people asked about where I found out about the redbooton thing. Well, a friend of mine clued me into it, and at first, I admit, I didn't believe it. And then I searched on the internet about it. There's an article on Yahoo Answers about it. I'd send you lot the link, but I'm not sure how well it would translate. So you can Google it, or whatever your search engine of choice happens to be.


	18. Chapter 18

_A/N: why hello there my wonderful readers. Long time no see, eh? Blame college. One of the required courses required me to do something like community service with a group, and we only just finished. Also, my weekends as of late have been monopolized by my new boyfriend, who lives 40 minutes away from me. But I've not given up. Nor am I completely moved to my new site, which is Adult Fanfiction. Also, just to clarify, I'm not leaving here, merely expanding my horizons, as it were. Anyhow, enjoy this new chapter, better late than never._

Sulu drew the short straw and was nominated as the one to investigate the room Spock had come charging out of. He returned drained of color and wide-eyed, and without a word helped McCoy get an arm around Spock and haul him to his feet. Scotty had called down a few more crew members, and together they managed to get Jim between them. The only time Spock stirred was when Jim was removed from his arms; once Uhura soothingly pushed back his hair, murmuring to him, he slumped forward again, passed out.

"On the count of three then," McCoy muttered, preparing himself to lift the unconscious Vulcan.

"Pavel! Stay away from there!" Sulu called over his shoulder. Chekov jumped and peeked back at him, the proverbial deer in the headlights look on his face.

"But…"

"Trust me, you don't wanna see," Sulu assured him, and, sulking, Pavel nodded and trailed after him.

"Can't baby him forever," McCoy grunted, struggling to keep Spock level.

"No, I can't, but I can at least keep that particular nightmare from staining him," Sulu replied, arms shaking and sweat already streaming into his eyes. "What I saw…I can't even begin to understand. I know someone will have to come back once we've got Spock and Kirk settled, to try and make sense of it, and I'd really rather it not be me."

"We'll see."

* * *

Once in the infirmary, Jim was hooked up to IVs, heart monitors, brain wave monitors, and breathing tubes all of which began beeping slowly, rasping as air whooshed in and out, or dripping stabilizing fluids into him. At a word from McCoy, Nurse Chapel began gently washing the blood away before patting him dry and wrapping gauze around the innumerable gaping wounds covering his body. He didn't move once during the process, the only sign of life the slow rise and fall of his chest.

Meanwhile, McCoy was tending to Spock, who was stirring slightly, his eyes flickering rapidly.

"Jim?"

"No, it's McCoy. Jim's on the other table," McCoy growled quietly.

"Is he…"

"He's alive, barely. He'll live too."

"Good," Spock lay back, his eyes falling shut. He folded his arms across his chest and his breathing evened out slowly. Other than the bruises and few cuts, he would have appeared fine.

* * *

"He's going into a healing trance."

McCoy gave a little start and glanced towards the door. Uhura stood there, looking at Spock. He nodded; he knew that of course, it was his job as CMO to know all about his patients. Uhura strode past him to stand by Spock, surveying the damage done to him.

"By my guess, I'd say he'll be up and about within a day, maybe a day and a half. He's not nearly as bad as Kirk is," she paused, glancing at his hands, "but his hands are all bruised and scraped, almost like he was punching a wall."

"Not the worst of it," McCoy said, and carefully lifted Spock's shirt, revealing the parallel bruises running horizontal across his chest and arms. "I'm going to guess they go all the way down, as if he was bound exceedingly tight.

Uhura ran her fingers across the dark green lines marring Spock's skin. "What happened to them?" she wondered, sparing a look over her shoulder for Jim.

"Wish I knew. Scotty's taking a few men down later to investigate. Hopefully he'll find something useful," McCoy sighed. Uhura noticed the scathing tone he had reserved just for Scotty as of late was gone, wiped away under the strain of finding his best friend in such a bad way. She gave his shoulder a comforting squeeze and went for the door, pausing to offer to bring him something to eat, which he declined. Still, she made a mental note to bring him something later, or he'd just keep working and starve and be of no use to anyone, least of all Jim and Spock.

* * *

Chekov yawned widely, rubbing his eyes as he stumbled behind Sulu to his room. They'd been sitting for hours, staring at a whole lot of nothing while they orbited above the planet they'd recovered Kirk and Spock from. He moved from rubbing his eyes to rubbing the small of his back, which popped satisfyingly, to pulling his gold shirt over his head as the door hissed shut behind him.

"Tired," he mumbled, flopping onto the bed.

"How can you be tired, you did nothing all day," Sulu asked, grinning as Chekov lifted his head enough to glare at him.

"How are you not tired?" he retorted, rolling over.

"I'm older, I don't need as much sleep as you," Sulu replied, poking Chekov in the stomach.

"I thought zhat the older one got, the more one needed sleep, and softer foods, and occasionally diapers," Chekov snickered, shooting a wicked grin at Sulu.

"You brat." Sulu reached over and ruffled Chekov's curls before settling in at the head of the bed and pulling the younger boy over so his head was pillowed on his thigh. They were quiet a little longer, Sulu almost asleep in fact, when Chekov shifted enough to look up at him.

"Vas it really bad?"

Sulu opened his eyes at the soft query and glanced down at his companion. After a moment's thought, he nodded, "One of the worst things I've ever seen. Better you don't see it Pavel. I know you think I'm babying you, but trust me on this, you don't need that in your head."

"Mmm, alright Hikaru, I trust you," Chekov ran his hand lightly along Sulu's thigh before snuggling in tighter against him. "Comfortable?"

"Very. Good night Pavel."

"Good night Hikaru."

* * *

Scotty had to agree with Sulu's assessment of the situation. It was in fact, one of the worst things he'd seen, at least in a great while. And considering that he was head engineer on the Enterprise, and she had a propensity for getting herself into all manner of trouble that most other starships could only dream of, that was saying something. He frowned as he surveyed the vast room. It might once have been impressive, scientifically speaking. It had the look and feel of a wondrous lab. However, what its exact nature might have been, he could no longer determine. Someone; and he had a sneaking suspicion as to who, had gone, to put it bluntly, apeshit on the room.

Bits and pieces of machinery, some still smoking or sparking, lay strewn about the floor like pieces of a jigsaw puzzle. Broad metal bars stuck out like cracked ribs from the wall, scraps of clothing clinging to the ends. Tubing draped over it all, some still with various fluids dripping out of them. The floor was covered in blood, both the red of human and green of Vulcan mixing together like some macabre Christmas decoration. The walls were pitted with dents, some clearly the size of a fist, others the size of a head, and still others damn near body sized. But perhaps the most disturbing thing of all was what was slumped in the middle of the floor, the gruesome centerpiece to all the carnage.

As far as he could tell, they had once been two separate bodies. They were roughly humanoid in shape and size, though almost…blurred around the edges, which emitted a soft, silvery glow. But they were obviously dead, beaten to pulps until they were unrecognizable. Scotty squatted down next to them, covering his nose with his arm against the smell of death that lingered over them. Grimacing, he flipped on his communicator, paging Dr. McCoy.

"McCoy here."

"I cannae tell what they are what took Kirk and Spock, Doctor. They've been pummeled, could hardly tell there were two of'em. You'll likely wanna bring a few medics with ya and see for yourself, because I'm stumped and the smell's gettin' to me."

A heavy sigh came from the other end, and Scotty could picture McCoy rubbing the bridge of his nose.

"Can you at least give me a basic idea what they look like?"

"Well, they're almost blurred looking, 'round the edges, and the edges are sorta silvery and glowing." Scotty took a deep breath and peered closer, his eyes narrowing and then widening in shock. "If I didn't know any better Doctor, I'd swear I'm looking at our Cap'n and First down here. Y'know, besides the glowing outlines and the being beaten to a pulp."

"Obviously that's not them," McCoy growled. "Last I checked, Jim and Spock didn't glow around the edges." He glanced over his shoulder at Nurse Chapel, and motioned for her to start searching through the data bases for anything that matched the vague description Scotty gave. "Have you gotten all you can from the place?"

"Aye."

"Come on up then. I'll have someone meet you by the transporter; make sure you didn't pick up anything down there."

Scotty stood and gathered the few people he'd taken around him before messaging the Enterprise that they were ready to be beamed up. The nurse McCoy had promised met them, and after a quick scan with the tricorder, gave them each a clean bill of health. That taken care of, Scotty strolled down to see the good doctor himself.

"When'll you be going down then?" he asked from the door way. McCoy looked up from his desk and ran a hand through his hair.

"I dunno, soon maybe. I'd like to wait until Jim's up and about, but I know if I do that, he'll insist on coming along and something will happen because some damned thing always happens to Jim Kirk and I end up putting him back together, and do I get so much as a thank you? Nooo-''

"Hey! Hey, relax there Doc," Scotty walked in, pulling up the chair in front of McCoy's desk. "I know you and I've not been on the best of terms, and you're mad at Jim but for god's sake you need to relax. They're here, they're gonna live…you've done your job. Wait around awhile, get some sleep, and then go and have a look, alright? Or you won't be much good to anyone."

"But, what if they come 'round?"

"Doc, don't make me drag you to your room by your feet. 'Cause I will, and make no mistake. I'm not leavin' til you're well and truly out. Nurse Chapel and the others can handle things while you're getting some well deserved sleep, and if, and this is a very big if mind, if something happens, you'll be the first to know. Now off with ye," Scotty ushered McCoy out the door, and stood there, arms crossed until McCoy disappeared around the corner to his room. He even followed after him a few minutes later, just to make sure he hadn't somehow snuck past him back into the infirmary. That taken care of, he yawned widely, and continued on to his own quarters, to get some rest for himself.

* * *

As Uhura had predicted, Spock awoke late the following day. He simply opened his eyes and sat up; though he'd never admit it, and he'd give a funny look to whomever suggested otherwise, McCoy was good and startled by the almost vampire-like way the Vulcan arose. He watched as Spock pushed himself from the table and strode immediately to the one Jim lay upon. For what felt like a long time Spock merely stood over him, his face blank, betraying no emotion, which of course, wasn't precisely unusual. But then, still ignoring McCoy, Spock reached out and gently brushed back Jim's hair, his face smoothing into something that the CMO almost called tenderness. What he didn't know, was that Spock wasn't doing it purely out of whatever feelings he had for Jim. He was searching for their captain.

While to McCoy it appeared that Spock was brushing Jim's hair back, he was actually pressing his finger tips lightly against his temple in the most careful of mind melds. The look of tenderness came from when he felt an answering spark, flickering but growing stronger, like embers near death until a fresh log is added and they rush back to life. Jim would live, just as the doctor has said; in fact he would, by the feel of things, regain consciousness soon, very very soon. Just as carefully as he'd initiated it, he broke the connection, and turned to McCoy.

"Unless you have any objections Doctor, I should like to return to my quarters. I have regained my health completely, and would like to have time to myself before I return to active duty and am assuredly bombarded with questions about what happened to myself and the captain."

McCoy stared at him a few beat before sighing and shaking his head. "Fine, go on." Spock nodded briefly and made his way out, striding as quickly as he could manage without outright running to his quarters, slipping inside the comforting warmth and keying in the code to lock the door behind him. He leaned against it, unwittingly sliding down the floor into a very undignified and un-Vulcan like heap. He let out a deep breath and willed his tense muscles to relax. He was, for all intents and purposes, home, in the dark, heated safety of his quarters. Yet he couldn't understand the painful feeling in his chest, or why his heart thumped so very hard, or the slight tremor in his limbs he seemed to have acquired.

_Think_, he admonished himself. _There is without a doubt a reason, an exceedingly simple one of course, that explains these sudden symptoms._ Spock shut his eyes, enjoying for a moment the feel of the wall behind him, and the very slight thrum to the Enterprise that one could only feel if they concentrated hard enough. And with that, he had a flash of insight. He was experiencing excessive relief, coupled with the realization that he had nearly lost his t'hy'la, and only when Jim had been at death's door had he been able to do anything about it. He hadn't been able to do a thing until it had almost been too late. Jim could have died, and he would have had to watch, enduring it, knowing his own end was soon to come and he'd been able to do nothing to save either of them.

_A/N: bit of a short cut off there, but I wanted to get this posted. Next chapter, hopefully soonish. Now, to make up for my absence, how about a tid bit of my next Star Trek fic?_

Tires squealed, horns blared and metal screamed as it met metal at almost illegally high speeds.

A dog yelped as he was tossed from a motorcycle side car to land, startled but unharmed a few feet away.

A vehicle door slammed open, followed by hurried footsteps, a man's voice muttering fevered curses, more footsteps and then that same vehicle door being viciously yanked shut. An engine coughed, sputtered, whined and finally kicked over. Tires squealed once more as James T. Kirk sat up, groggily rubbing his head. He blinked to clear his eyes just in time to see the jack ass that had hit him peel off, leaving him to his mess. He got up to survey the damage, coughing and wrinkling his nose at the acrid smoke left by the burning tires.

Bread was squished crookedly in the bag, eggs were cracked, oozing into the gutter, and a carton of milk was on its side, the cap thrown off by the impact, quietly chugging its contents into the street where his dog Thor was creeping over to lap at it. Jim groaned, kicking furiously at his bike.

Bones was gonna kill him.


	19. Chapter 19

_A/N: again, apologies for the sudden cut off last chapter, I just wanted to end before I got all rambling. In any case, I bring you all back to the sick bay and Jim and continue from there. Enjoy! _

Where Spock awoke like someone merely rising from a nap, Jim awoke like one recently at death's door. Which coincidentally, he had.

His skin felt like it had all been recently cut off in great pieces and then shoddily sewn back on; too tight and maddeningly itchy. His back bowed at an absurd angle, and his hands scrabbled at the mattress. He drew in great gasps of air, his chest rising and falling rapidly. The monitors around him were going insane, beeping shrilly and doing nothing to ease Jim's panic.

"Jim! Damn it, calm down, you're safe, you're in sick bay!" McCoy's face swam into view and almost at once Jim was able to collapse onto the mattress in relief.

"B-Bones, God I've never been so happy to see you. Sick bay?"

"Yeah, we brought you and Spock both here. He got you both free from the shackles, and took out your captors, and then we arrived I'm gonna guess shortly thereafter. He's come to already, about a day ago. Haven't seen him since though," McCoy trailed off. He smoothed out his shirt before turning his focus back to Jim. "Get some rest; you're not quite healed yet. I only just had to cut the stitches, they were starting to heal over."

"Stitches? You had to use stitches to patch me up?"

"Well, you were badly cut up Jim, like you'd been put through a tornado made of razor blades. It was gonna take something a little more to patch you up. Nurse Chapel tried just wrapping them, but they wouldn't stay shut. And that's why your skin feels like ants are crawling inside it," the CMO replied to Jim's unspoken question.

Jim sighed heavily, longing to scratch at his arms and chest but knowing Bones wouldn't hesitate to smack him despite his recovering. "And lemme guess, there's nothing you can do about it is there?"

"Actually," Bones rolled his eyes at the childish tone, "I can knock you out once more, if you like. Sleep off the pain."

"Oh yeeaaah. I want that. Dope me up til I can't feel the pain anymore," Jim laughed at the look on McCoy's face. "What? Did you think I'd wanna tough it out, be the brave captain? No way in hell, it feels like my skin shrunk in the wash. I can't sit through that. Wake me when I'm healed."

"If you're sure," McCoy fiddled with the knobs that controlled the flow of morphine and anesthesia into Jim's system, letting more in, but just enough so that he'd sleep and feel nothing at all.

* * *

When once more the drugs had worked their way through his system and he found himself blinking groggily around the med bay, Jim was pleased to discover the pain had subsided and his skin felt more his size. He glanced down and found the faintest of scars tracing here and there across his arms, chest and legs, but otherwise no physical mark remained. He struggled to sit up, wincing as he did so, the blanket he'd been covered in pooling around his waist. Almost on cue, the doors slid open and Bones walked in, deep in discussion with Nurse Chapel.

"Oh good, you're up," he said casually, before resuming his conversation. "And we're low on gloves, we'll need to restock soon. And the tricorders need-Jim leave it alone!" Jim startled and frowned, but stopped pulling at one of the scars along his bicep. A few moments later and Nurse Chapel had gone off on an errand, but not before giving Jim a smile on her way past. Bones rolled his eyes as he gave his full attention to Jim.

"How do you feel?"

Jim paused, thinking it over. "Not bad actually. A little stiff and still half out of it, but all around decent."

"Good, good. You've been out a couple of shifts at this point, and we're still making orbits over that planet we picked you up on."

"Why?" Jim demanded, voice harsher than usual.

Bones raised his eyebrows at the tone, but otherwise ignored it. "Those were the orders until you recovered. I suspect Pike had a hand in that, lord knows the rest of them would likely have us crossing half the galaxy on this or that errand while you were still out cold. Anyway, you hungry?"

"Starving," the young captain replied, just as his stomach gave a thunderous growl. Chuckling, Bones called out for a plate of food, which Jim tore into ravenously. He couldn't recall the last time he'd eaten, and it had only just dawned on him. When at last his plate was cleared, and he slumped back to the pillows, Bones looked at him seriously, and he resisted the urge to gulp. When he'd first come to, he thought he'd sensed some tension in his friend that hadn't been there before, but he'd convinced himself it was just the after effects of what he'd been through. At the look on the CMO's face, Jim suddenly wasn't so sure.

"You've got roughly another shift to relax, recoup, and get your bearings. After that, you need to get dressed; you and Spock are required to relay exactly what happened to Starfleet."

"Spock?" Jim cursed himself for how earnest he sounded with just that one word, that one singular name.

"Yeah, Spock. The pointy eared hobgoblin you-''Bones shut his mouth abruptly and turned away, rifling through a drawer behind him too loudly to be accidental. "I'd use my time wisely if I were you." Jim mumbled an affirmative, pulling the blanket higher and wondering just what the hell had gotten into his best friend. He rolled over and drifted off once more, though it felt like he had only just fallen asleep when he was carefully shaken awake.

* * *

"C'mon lad, time to rise'n'shine."

"Hnnggh…five more minutes…"

"I don' think so. Now up you get cap'n."

"Bite me," Jim burrowed his head under his pillow.

"Not even if I were drunk. Now up, or the good doctor'll have both our arses."

Groaning and cursing Jim roused himself, and sat up, glaring at Scotty, who grinned.

"Welcome back laddie. McCoy told me I was to get you up and see to it you got to your meetin' with the higher ups alright."

"Super. Don't suppose you have clothes for me?"

"Aye, as a matter of fact I do," Scotty passed Jim a set of clothes, and kindly turned his back while Jim dressed in one of his black long sleeved shirts, black pants, and black boots. He turned back and frowned slightly to see Jim hugging his arms tight about himself. The younger man looked up, and slowly relaxed his arms.

"Sorry, just…nice to wear something that's my own but doesn't…doesn't reek of…" Jim trailed off, looking troubled. Scotty understood of course, but kept quiet, opting instead to sling his arm around Jim's shoulders and lead him out. They kept up a steady stream of idle banter the entire walk to one of the meeting rooms, and by the time they reached it, the haunted look had fled from Jim's eyes and the pair was both laughing when the door whoosed open. As they stepped inside, Bones and Spock both turned to look at them, and though they didn't realize it, both narrowed their eyes and while the tension level jumped higher, it felt as though the temperature dropped a significant level. With a nod to all of them, Scotty hastily backed out, leaving all three in a strained silence.

Doing his best to appear at ease, Jim made his way into the room and along the table until he pulled out the center chair and eased himself into it. Without a word, Bones and Spock followed suit, Spock on his right, Bones on his left. Still without a glance at either of the two on his sides, he pressed a button set into the arm rest on his seat and patched in Starfleet. Admiral Barnett and Pike suddenly filled the screen, and after a cursory greeting from both, one of which was slightly warmer than the other, they asked that the captain and first officer recount their tale.

Approximately forty-five minutes later, Barnett and Pike thanked them, told them that Starfleet would make a record of the incident and look into it, and that they would be receiving their new orders within a day. Though, before signing off, Pike did take the time to let them know he was glad they were recovering well. As the screen went dark, Spock stood and was out the door before Jim had even registered he moved. He huffed angrily, spinning in his seat.

"What is his deal? First he doesn't even come see me in the med bay, now he won't even look at me, or speak to me. I mean, not that I expected him to be at my bed the entire time, frantic, but he's being moody, even for Spock," he sighed, glancing up at Bones, who was shaking his head. "Bones?" Without a word, Bones too departed, leaving Jim puzzled and more than a little put out.

* * *

"Well, I don't know about Spock, who does really? But I do know what's stuck up McCoy's craw."

"You do?" Jim asked incredulously, looking wide eyed at Sulu, who was nodding wisely.

"Ve all do," Chekov chimed in from where he sprawled across his bed.

"All?"

"Yes, all. Me, and Hikaru, and Uhura and Scotty, and-''

"So what is it?" Jim cut across the teen's rambling. The pair shared a look, and something passed between them, something that Jim was left out of. "Well?" he prompted, wishing they'd get on with it, and half wondering why he'd gone to them in the first place. Surely Uhura would've given him a more straightforward answer, or even Scotty.

"We're just not sure how to tell you," Sulu mumbled, and Jim was surprised to see the faintest of flushes cross the bridge of his nose. Chekov snickered, earning himself a dirty look. "You see, we noticed you and Spock missing right after leave, when neither of you showed up to the shuttle dock. We expected you to be the first ones back, but no one had heard from you. We actually tried calling your place, and found out your mom had dropped you off, but beyond that…so we, err, got a hold of the security footage for the entire dock area."

"And?" Jim was getting impatient with all the tiptoeing around the subject.

Chekov sighed, running a hand through his curls. He too would have preferred to just tell the captain and get it over with. "Vhat Hikaru is trying so delicately to tell you is zhat ve saw you and commander Spock, how you say, making out before getting on ze shuttle. Ze doctor took it…badly to say the least, ve think he saw it as some betrayal or something. He vas getting better, after Scotty told him he vas being stupid and if he vas really your friend he vouldn't care. I think seeing you both together now though has…oh I don't know, you explain Hikaru."

Sulu rolled his eyes, but did as he was asked. "He'll never admit to it, but McCoy is almost jealous. Think about it," he said, holding up a hand when Jim opened his mouth. "You and McCoy used to agree almost that Spock was nothing but a pointy eared arrogant pain in the ass. Then you and Spock have your big damn hero moment, and he's suddenly your first officer and you're all pals. Then you two go on leave, and you're, well making out, with someone who isn't exactly McCoy's enemy, but someone he doesn't like very much. It's a lot to handle, and we all know the good doctor has a temper," Sulu shrugged.

"Oh that's just great," Jim groaned, hanging his head.

"It's not that bad," Sulu assured him, sitting down on the floor with him. "He'll bounce back."

Jim laughed humorlessly, "Yeah right."

"You could take him out for drinks, zhat usually seems to work," Chekov suggested.

"Or he could start a bar fight with me and kick my ass," Jim muttered, pushing himself to his feet. "Ah well, thanks for the pep talk."

"Any time Captain," Sulu nodded as Jim let himself out.

Once the door slid shut, Jim leaned against the wall, wondering who he should try and patch up with first, Bones or Spock. He paced back and forth for a minute or so, thankful for the fact that the room Sulu and Chekov shared was on one of the more empty levels of the ship, and therefore he was less likely to be seen deliberating. Finally, he made up his mind, and set off in the direction of the med bay. Though he missed Spock a bit, and could feel him distantly in the back of his mind, he thought it might be better to make nice with Bones first. Bones would like him better for it, and perhaps be more open to the idea of his best friend and someone he hardly liked being together for it. Especially if he got him a little drunk first.

* * *

While Jim was scheming to get Bones drunk enough to not care who was sleeping with whom, Spock was in his room deep in meditation. He could, if concentrated, sense Jim elsewhere on the ship, sense his happiness and anticipation, though he knew not the cause. He was acutely aware of the fact that he had withdrawn, and the slowly growing pain it was causing Jim. However, despite his initial…relief that Jim would survive the ordeal, he had quickly picked up on McCoy's anger and frustration borne of an almost betrayed feeling and decided the best course of action was to return to the place he had held before leave. He firmly believed that Jim, though he often acted as though he was not as intelligent as he was, would understand that for peace to remain on the ship, they would put their tryst behind them and do their best to ignore the lingering attraction between them. there was no doubt it would be awkward at first, and be like a wound, but surely life aboard the Enterprise would return to normal; some ambassador's beautiful daughter would catch Jim's eye and he, Spock, would have to step in and perform some miracle that kept them a political disaster. Yes, normal, routine, familiar…comfortable.

Unbidden came thoughts of his father and mother. His father, he realized, had sacrificed a traditional Vulcan life for love of his mother, and though he had not understood when he was a child, had almost ostracized himself from his peers for marrying a human woman. Nothing as overt as outright ignoring him, but he recalled little things; his father being moved down a few seats on the council, invitations to functions where spouses were invited being mysteriously lost. Now, for what he could admit to himself only as love of Jim, he would sacrifice the bond they shared so that life on the Enterprise would remain peaceful. He let the smallest of wry smiles quirk the corner of his lips up; his situation was the opposite of his parents. They sacrificed normal life for love, he was sacrificing love for a normal life, and where they had been happy, he knew that neither he nor Jim would be ultimately.

_A/N: Again, kinda short-ish. But I got that feeling of this is where this chapter should end. And I only got to work on it because I'm headed home after vacation, and I had some free time, which hasn't happened in…I don't even know how long truthfully. Ah well…_


	20. Chapter 20

"No."

"No?"

"No."

"B-But Bones…"

"No buts. Absolutely and unequivocally no. No ifs ands or buts, that's my final answer."

"But its booze!"

"Which neither of us should be drinking."

"It's your favorite though!"

Bones sighed exasperatedly, pinching the bridge of his nose between thumb and forefinger. He had hoped to keep this civil, but Jim was not going to let up, obviously.

"Look Jim, I know what you're up to and frankly, it's insulting that you think that a bit of booze, no matter how fine and how much I like it, will suit as a peace offering. So just take your bottle of…oh god, you bastard, and its aged…no, take that…bottle and shove off. I've things to take care of round here and you should be resting anyway." He risked a quick glance at the shocked and crestfallen look on Jim's face before rooting his gaze on PADD and trying to look like he really did have things to do.

"I'll just…I'll just go then. Um, see you around, I guess, maybe," Jim mumbled, shuffling off, but not before leaving the bottle on the corner of Bones's desk.

As the door slid shut, Bones looked to the bottle, and guilt started to worm its way into his chest. "Oh god damn it all," he growled to the empty room.

* * *

Out in the hall, Jim resisted, barely, his first impulse to sulk and pout and generally behave like a child. He was a captain after all, and captains didn't throw tantrums; at least not in the hall where others could walk by and see them. Not even him, and he wasn't most captains. So he picked himself up, put on his game face, and stalked off to his quarters to rethink his plan of attack. He got only a few steps into his room when his brain caught up, and he realized that he'd been so sure that getting Bones drunk would work that he had no clue where else to go planning wise. Jim dropped onto his bed, scrubbing his hands across his face and feeling the drag of stubble. On top of everything else, of course he needed a shave, and probably a good wash too. Fortunately, he thought better in the shower.

"C'mon Jim," he muttered as he got clean. "Be a captain for once and figure this out." Even if this was totally more high school drama than anything, he would be damned if he didn't get it under his control. He stepped out of the bathroom, clutching a towel round his waist and thinking. It honestly was more a teenaged spectacle than anything he'd come across as captain previously, but if he didn't reign it in, not only did he risk the permanent fracturing of his crew, but he would be a laughingstock at Starfleet; the young captain who couldn't even control his own crew. Groaning in frustration, he collapsed onto his bed, one arm flung across his eyes. He had thought he'd left petty squabbles like this behind him, thought maybe things like who was dating whom or whatever wouldn't matter, but apparently, he was wrong and left feeling like the unwitting star in a soap opera. Wait…

Soap operas…his mom had been a huge fan of them, and made a point to catch up on her favorites whenever she was planetside. Jim, happy to be spending any time with her at all, hadn't protested too much when it came time for the drama to unfold, other than the obligatory eye roll as he sat cross legged on the floor. Every time she'd smile at him, reach out and ruffle his hair…Jim jerked himself back into present times, trying to catch the train of thought he'd had before nostalgia kicked in. The problem with soap operas was that everyone blew up over the slightest insinuation, provocation or allegation whether it was true or not. Of course that was the point, no reaction no drama. So it was that for pretty much the first time in his life, Jim T. Kirk decided to go with the flow and let whatever his crew threw at him simply roll off his back. He was hopeful that even though he was captain and they had irrefutable proof of his and Spock's goings on, that if they couldn't get a rise out of him they'd tire of it eventually.

After the initial glee at coming up with such a simplistic but no less brilliant plan wore off, Jim would have liked nothing more than to run it by Spock and be praised for being so smart. Sure it would only appear as an arched eyebrow to most, but Jim would know that he was secretly pleased with him for devising a solution that resulted in minimum fuss for all involved. But no, Spock was…avoiding him to the best of his knowledge, and had been since they'd delivered their report to Pike. Fine then, two could play at that game…

* * *

Both Jim and Spock returned to their stations the following shift, inadvertently at nearly the same time, so one had to step aside for the other, and they were both acutely aware of the eyes surreptitiously watching them. However, neither said anything about it. Jim just nodded cheerfully to this or that crew member as he took his seat, lacing his fingers together and flexing them with a satisfying crackle. Spock, for his part had apparently reverted back to the stoic persona he'd had back before leave, before he and Jim had been only barely friends and strictly crew mates, and gave no indication that anything was out of the ordinary.

Chekov glanced slyly at Sulu, who gave the barest of shrugs, trying not to draw attention to himself. It didn't work.

"Sulu."

The helmsman jumped as if scalded and Chekov stifled a snicker. "Yes sir?" he glanced behind him, and decided he really, really didn't like the smirk that crept across Jim's face.

"Would I be correct in assuming that orders came in recently pertaining to our next mission now that myself and the first officer have been rescued?"

"Aye captain."

"Very good. You and Ensign Chekov," Jim flicked his gaze to the youngest crew member, who flushed to the roots of his curls, "input the coordinates and let's get going."

"Don't…don't you vish to know vhere it is we are going Captain?" Chekov asked hesitantly.

"Not yet," Jim replied flippantly, stretching in his chair in an attempt to get it to return to how it had previously melded to his body. Somebody, and he didn't know who just yet, but somebody had been sitting in it and now it was all mashed up. "Surprise me." He shifted, sitting further up and slouching in turns, trying to get the cushioning just right. Oh this was going to take a while, he'd had it perfect and then someone had carelessly plopped themselves down and ruined it. Was nothing sacred?

* * *

From his location just behind the captain's chair, Spock was picking up on Jim's annoyance as he tried to get his seat comfortable once more. It was like an incessant buzz in the back of his mind, and the more he tried to tune it out, the louder it became until he was forced to shut his eyes in an effort to make his mind his own again. When he opened them, Uhura's eyes were boring into his own, and he could see the question in them clear as day. Only, he had no answer to give her, he truly didn't and he made himself return to his work. He heard her slight sigh as she too turned away. Unfortunately, it was as though by turning his focus to her, he'd allowed his concentration to slip, and the volume on Jim's thoughts and feelings was slowly rising.

Jim was resisting the urge to glance back at him, despite his earlier determination to act as though the shore leave had been typical for all involved. He wanted to so very badly, and was stung by Spock's lack of communication. He didn't see that for life on the Enterprise to return to normal, for McCoy to cease his anger at Jim, they had to put what occurred between them behind them. Of course, the very fact that Spock was getting all this and more from Jim so very clearly only bespoke of how difficult such an endeavor would be. Spock resisted the urge to rub his temples, pinch the bridge of his nose, or otherwise display the myriad of emotions swirling through him in some outward fashion. Perhaps he should verbally make his intentions to the young captain clear; for all his intelligence, at times Jim was incredibly thick. Later, he would do it later he resolved. At the end of their shift, he would say something.

As the end of the shift ticked nearer and nearer, Spock could admit to himself that he was more than a little grateful that Jim was not as keen at receiving thoughts and emotions as he was at sending them. The last thing he wanted was Jim picking up on the forthcoming conversation he wished to have and causing a scene. He could also admit to being grateful that he and the captain had rooms fairly close; in fact all that separated them was the bathroom.

Come the end of what seemed to be a very long shift wherein nothing exciting happened beyond Sulu nearly sitting on Chekov's tribble and the younger man scolding him soundly after dive tackling him out of the way, Jim was more than happy to return to his room. On McCoy's orders he wasn't straining himself; he'd thought that stupid at first, but after spending his time consciously trying to act non-chalant, which was more difficult than one would have thought, he could see the good doctor's point. He felt drained, and looked worse if his reflection was anything to go on. Sweat stood out a little bit on his forehead, and there were bags under his eyes. Nothing huge of course, just overnight bags, but all the same, he looked like he could use some sleep. But apparently that would have to wait, as the minute he went to tug his boots off, there came a polite knock at the bathroom door.

"C'mon in," he called, tossing first one then the other boot in the corner before pulling off his socks.

"Captain," Spock inclined his head as he strolled in, hands clasped behind his back. Jim blinked a little at the formality; they weren't on the bridge, and surely they were beyond rank now.

"'Lo Spock, take a seat. What's up?"

Spock almost didn't sit, more comfortable standing, but decided almost immediately after that thought that things would perhaps go more smoothly if he acquiesced. Besides, there was really no harm in all parties being comfortable for what would undoubtedly be an uncomfortable conversation. He perched in the chair closest to the bed where Jim sat, spinning so that they were facing one another. Yet he didn't speak. Now that he was here, everything he'd intended to say, every argument and counter argument simply flew from his mind as they stared at one another and a part of his brain, albeit a very small and no doubt _human_ part, asked why he would ever think of ending anything with his captain.

Jim stood up and started to pull off his gold shirt. "The answer is no Spock," he said over his shoulder, and got the rare treat of seeing Spock looking surprised, where both eyebrows rose, his eyes widened and his nose flared the slightest bit. "And no, you weren't transmitting over our bond or anything like that. It's just all over your face, and the answer, I say again, is no. I'm gonna pull rank and say as captain I won't let you break it off just cause things look a little less than spectacular right now." He realized as he spoke how very much like Bones he sounded, and mentally grimaced.

"I was only looking out for the best interests of the crew," Spock said softly, not trying to deny it.

"I know," Jim replied, just as soft, and strode over to Spock. He laid a hand on his head, smoothing down the already smooth hair and relishing in the texture of it. To his surprise, Spock rotated his neck, following his hand like a cat getting pet. Jim chuckled and let his fingers trail along the shell of Spock's ear. Cheating yes, but a mellow Spock was Spock who would listen and Jim had acknowledged his love of creative problem solving.

"Listen, I know right now, it seems like the universe just doesn't want us to work out. Wait, no…it does, that whole relationship spanning time and such thing. Ok, so it wants us to work out, but it can't just be easy going. What would be the point, right?" he eased his hand away from the Vulcan's ear and watched him come back to himself.

"Correct. Anything worth having is worth fighting for. I have seen the phrase demonstrated many a time, though never experienced it so personally. I merely thought that-''

"Oh I know what you thought. When we got back, everybody, and by everybody I mean Bones, seemed so opposed to the idea that you and I could ever, well, be more than friends and coworkers," Jim paused to grin sheepishly at Spock, "that you figured it would just be better to give it all up and life would return to as normal as it ever gets around here. Hate to say it Spock, but the warranty is already expired on this, there's no going back."

"How can you possibly know all that?" Spock asked, and yes, the tiniest bit of incredulity had seeped into his voice.

"Well because it's a perfectly _you_ thing to do," Jim laughed. "Needs of the many and all that; so classic Spock. And like I've said, that's quitter talk. You know me and my stand on no-win scenarios."

"I do…what do you propose we do then, in regards to our odd predicament?"

Jim dropped back on his bed, stretching out and pillowing his head on his arms. "For starters, I've gathered through a chat with Pavel and Sulu that no one else really gives one flying damn about us. That's not to say they're all giddy with joy, it was a surprise to most, but I get the feeling that as long as we don't go for a shag on deck…I mean they're likely still going to give us hell, I foresee loads of teasing and speculation about the Captain and his Vulcan firs officer, but that's what crews do. And coincidentally why I didn't say anything earlier. If you let them see that it's getting to you, they pounce."

"Yes, I am familiar with such actions," Spock replied drily, recalling the incident from childhood where the bullies had indeed pounced at the slightest weakness, namely his mother.

"Now, for second, I believe I need to nip this in the bud and talk with Bones, Captain to CMO. I don't want to pull rank, I really, really don't, especially with Bones, but I have this feeling he won't listen unless I show him I'm serious." He sighed and rolled over to his stomach. The bed shifted just behind him, and he glanced over to see Spock kneeling, obviously wanting to sit somewhere, but not sure where. Grinning, Jim wriggled over, making room for Spock to sit cross legged next to him.

"What will you do if Doctor McCoy refuses to…come around?" Spock asked.

"I honestly haven't thought that far ahead. I'm really just hoping I can get him to see it as not such a big deal. I mean, he can be reasonable," Jim glanced sidelong at Spock, who hadn't said anything, but had shifted slightly. "Ok, so it doesn't always seem like it, but you can't deny he's good at what he does, and when he doesn't let his temper get in the way, he's not that bad. He's kept me out of trouble for the most part."

"I will concede that as doctors go, I have yet to encounter one that is a match for our Doctor McCoy. However, I do not believe that other doctors would allow their own semi unfounded feelings of betrayal to get the better of them the way that he has. But you are right, it would be better for you to explain such to him; I highly doubt he even wants to see me, much less talk to me. Not that he ever put much stock in what I had to say to begin with," Spock concluded with a wry arch of his right brow.

"Stubborn as a mule is Bones," Jim agreed. "I'll talk to him soon enough. In the meantime," he propped himself up and before Spock could blink, one arm had snaked around his middle and hauled him down to Jim's level. "It has been far too long, don't you think?"

The corners of Spock's mouth turned up ever so slightly. "On that we are in agreement, Captain."

* * *

As far as confrontations went, Jim suspected that his with Bones could have gone better, and could have gone worse. While it's true Bones did attempt to slug him for the apparent audacity of suggesting he was being unreasonable (which, hello, ironic), he remembered in time that Jim was recovering from an ordeal and only grazed his cheek. Once that was out of his system, he was willing to listen to Jim, though he alternated between slouching sullenly in a seat and pacing agitatedly, glowering at Jim the whole while.

"So you want me to believe this is some…some pre-ordained shit, that just sort of happened while you were on leave?"

"That's basically what I'm saying yeah. Look, I know it was sudden, and I kinda disappeared so I couldn't really explain it all to you, and for that I am sorry. Not like I planned on all of this. I should've, I dunno, sent you a message over leave, but I was caught up in the suddenness of it. But the fact of the matter is, well, we're actually pretty happy together," Jim shrugged, looking sheepish for how sappy he sounded. "Plus, I really don't think this is something that can just be undone. The whole point of a bond, isn't it?"

Bones sighed heavily, looking upon the younger man, his best friend here on this ship in the whole blackness of space. Even he could see the happiness there. Still… "You're asking a lot Jim, for me to just accept all this as it's dropped into my lap. And no, not because Spock just happens to also be of the male persuasion. But because of this 'suddenness' you're talking about. Not that long ago, we were complaining together about him, and now you're all," he gestured helplessly to the dopey smile Jim was working very hard to conceal. He sighed again. "I can't promise to just suddenly like it, but, I guess, for you, I'll try, and only try, to deal with it….And if you ever tell anyone I just said that James Kirk I will inject you with the worst diseases ever to be found in this or any galaxy."

"Your secrets safe with me Bones," Jim mimed zipping his lips shut before beaming and clapping Bones on the shoulder.

_A/N: so, finally, finally nearing the end. Like for real. I honestly just don't even know what to say. I think, with this, I made the mistake of just diving into the fandom and wanting to write without really planning the story, so I had no clue where I wanted it to go for the most part. And as such, things that I had more ideas for became more important, and I added other fandoms to my ever growing list of things I wanna write fics for. So, I would like to say thanks to those of you who stuck with me, apologize for being an inconsistent updater and say basically, look for more of me in the future, though not necessarily in the Star Trek fandom._


	21. Chapter 21

_A/N: So, here we are. This is in fact the end. It came to me at work last week. I came to the conclusion that I'm at a place where I can end this in at least moderately good fashion. For about the billionth time, my apologies with the spotty updating and kind of allover plot. When I started this, I was all hopped up on the movie and Kirk and Spock and just wanting to write. I'm not making that mistake again; if I write that other Star Trek fic I gave a sample of a while back, I'll plan it out better. In any case, I bid you all farewell, and fond wishes and hope you all like this ending. _

"Jim? You in?" McCoy rapped his knuckles on the door to the quarters Jim split with Spock on occasion. He'd already tried the conn, and received no answer. He waited, tapping his foot; still no answer. He stepped forward to knock again, and the door slid open, startling him.

Spock stood in the doorway, straightening his shirt that he'd clearly just tugged on. McCoy eyed him, noting the way his hair was stuck up in the back and the pale green flush to his cheeks. The shower started up and they both glanced that way.

"The captain," Spock stated, unnecessarily.

"Hmm," McCoy looked back at him, and the first officer narrowed his eyes in response. "Well, I'd like to talk to him. Mind if I sit? I know he'll be a while, takes longer showers than any girl I ever knew."

Spock motioned for him to sit, perching on the edge of the bed himself. They sat in stony silence, broken only by Jim's distant humming while he showered and dressed in the bathroom. Jim came out his usual twenty minutes later, steam puffing around him, rubbing a damp towel on his head with one hand and tossing a brush to Spock with the other.

"Your hair's all stuck up Spock; you look like a surprised bird. Hey Bones," he grinned at both, seemingly unaware of the tension ratcheting up incrementally. He chucked the towel into the bathroom, pumping his fist when it landed in the bin put there just for that purpose. He glanced over his shoulder, "Spock, brush your hair or I'll do it for you, 'kay?"

"Very well," Spock ignored the snicker from Bones and strode to the mirror, brushing down his hair to its natural smoothness.

"Something I can help you with Bones?" Jim tossed himself on the bed, sprawling slightly, the picture of ease. He knew why Bones was here, hell they all knew why; they'd been going at it in the weeks leading up to that day like bickering children, only Spock of course managing to maintain any of his dignity. But he was going to make Bones say it, make him be the one to cave first this time.

"You know why I'm here," Bones growled, fixing a glare on Jim.

"Do I?"

"Yes you damn well do!"

Spock paused by the mirror, considering informing the doctor that resorting to cursing so soon was a sure sign of a lack of vocabulary and imagination, but thought better of it. McCoy and Jim had finally patched things up in the approximate year and a half since their last shore leave; it would be a shame to tear that all asunder simply because he had a most un-Vulcan-like urge to push the CMO's buttons. He shook his head and instead returned the brush to the bathroom.

"Yeah, I do know why you're here, but the answer is still the same. I think it would be good for the three of us."

"That's your opinion," Bones huffed, crossing his arms over his chest.

"It may just be my opinion, but I'm backing it on the grounds that I'm the captain."

"Well I'm chief medical operator, and I could say you're not in your right mind to be making those sorts of calls."

"Oh please Bones, if you did that every single time I made a call you didn't agree with I'd have never been made captain and we wouldn't be here. And," Jim paused, struck by a sudden realization. He turned a look on Bones that was equal parts smug and evil and made the CMO shift uncomfortably. "I would say that it was a call that could have had you deemed 'not in your right mind' that got me on this ship in the first place. A call you did not, if I recall, get in trouble for because I ended up recognizing the trap we were flying into." Jim sat back, and spared a glance at Spock, whose eyes had lit up ever so slightly, recognizing the check mate his captain had just played.

Bones gaped at Jim, who could see the thought working its way through his head. "So what, you're saying I owe you this one?"

"Essentially. Look, Bones it would mean a lot to me, as my best friend in the whole world, if you came with us. And I promise that one, it'll be fun, and two, I'll do whatever you want the next time we have shore leave, unless of course my mom is planetside and wants me to visit."

"Damn it all." The doctor sighed heavily, sagging back in his seat. Jim had played the best friend card, a dirty, underhanded move, and was flashing him the classic puppy dog stare, his lower lip stuck out. He knew when he was beat. "Fine, fine, I'll go on your little…vacation. But I'm going under protest, just so you know."

"Bones if you did anything without protesting I'd think there was something wrong with you," Jim chuckled as they got to their feet and clapped the other man on the back when he glared. "Trust me, we'll have good time, we'll get drunk and do something stupid, it'll be awesome."

"How you manage to function in society, never mind became a captain, is beyond me."

"Well, once you've saved a planet and defeated a crazy Romulan, people start thinking the weird things you do are just adorable, and that you're just an eccentric captain who should be indulged and coddled. Totally clears the way in case you screw up. The good looks, charm and amazing first officer and CMO don't hurt either," Jim gave Bones his best dashing smile, waggling his eyebrows. Without realizing it, Spock and Bones both did tandem eye rolling, though they both could admit to Jim having a point. He _was_ the youngest captain, and had gotten away with stuff either because of the planet saving, or because Pike had a soft spot for him and brushed off much of his antics as "Jim will be Jim"; the lucky bastard.

"Now, Bones, if you'd be so kind, I've gotta pack, and so do you. Scotty tells me we'll be in port pretty soon, and I want to get on the road right away." Jim steered him towards the door, and ushered him through. "Now, don't forget to pack your toothbrush, and plenty of underwear, and your swim trunks and we'll meet you on the bridge once we're closer to landing, 'kay?" He ushered him through the door and into the hall, giving a small wave as it slid shut.

"Are you certain this is a wise idea?" Spock asked once Bones was gone, leaning against the doorframe of the bathroom.

"I am as certain about this as I'm certain that you look sexy as hell in jeans," Jim grinned. Spock raised an eyebrow. "Oh you know you love it," the blonde threw him a cheeky grin as he moved behind him, wrapping his arms around his slim waist. "I am sure about this though. Bones is…well, ok he's not just all talk, he'll back it up if he's got to, we've all seen that. But about this, I know, I can feel it, that he's just complaining to complain; that's what he does. It's because, in the way back of his mind, all he can think of is all the times back at Starfleet, where he'd end up third wheel when I uh, got acquainted with the lady of the week," Jim chuckled slightly, scratching the back of his neck. Spock glanced back at him, and Jim could see his eyes narrow just the tiniest bit. "Oh come on, how long've we been together? I won't do that…I mean, either of those. Quit with the glaring at me or I will ruffle the hair you just brushed to perfection."

"I would like to see you try," Spock replied, deftly turning in Jim's grasp and snatching up the brush once more before bopping Jim in the head with it.

"Ow! Hey, that's assault Spock."

"Technically it is battery. The two are often confused."

"Either way, I could throw you in the brig if I had a mind to," Jim rubbed at his head.

"How very threatening Jim," Spock retorted. "And then you would have to endure this 'vacation' on your own, without my company."

Jim blinked in surprise. "You conniving s.o.b. Was that a veiled threat of withholding sexual favors in there?" A slow grin spread over his face, "Color me impressed…and a little turned on."

Spock rolled his eyes, "Honestly Jim, is there anything in this or any galaxy that does not somehow result in you being turned on?"

"Probably, I haven't gone out of my way to find out," the captain shrugged.

"Of course. Would you like assistance in packing? My own bag is ready, but," Spock cast a glance at the jumbled mess of socks, shirts and luridly patterned underwear strewn about but not _in_ Jim's battered duffle bag, "You are not, and you did in fact tell the Doctor you would be packing."

"Yeah yeah, I got it thanks," Jim grumbled, shoving clothes haphazardly into the bag. Spock watched, eye brow in danger of disappearing behind his hair line and wondered what his chances were as far as re-packing the bag once Jim's back was turned. He however wouldn't get that chance, as once Jim had forced the zipper shut on the bag he slung it over his shoulder and all but bounded to the door. "C'mon, let's go! You know if we aren't there Bones will just use it as an excuse to ditch us."

"And that would be quite the tragedy," Spock muttered, extending the handle on his own bag and wheeling it after Jim.

* * *

"I thought we were in a rush, or something? You were so gung-ho to get out of here, so tell me why we're hanging about the transporter?"

"Because Bones," Jim sighed, "we've got one more…ah, here he is!"

Scotty trundled up to the three, his face shiny and red and arms loaded with bags, a pair of sunglasses perched precariously on the end of his nose.

"Scotty? Why's he coming?" Bones growled.

"Nice to see you too Doc," Scotty huffed. "Jim, help a fellow out an' push my glasses up on my nose, there's a good lad." He peered over the top of the frames at them as Jim pushed them up. "So, we good to go then or what? Less you'd like to stick round here?"

"Nope, we're all set now. If you'd be so kind?" Jim gestured towards the transporter. Scotty set his bags down, revealing a luridly colored shirt, what Jim was fairly certain was called a Hawaiian print that clashed horribly with, well everything. And of course, Bones had to say something.

"Good Christ, it's a good thing I'm not hungover."

"Yeah yeah, blow it out your arse," the other man bent over the transporter controls, setting it so that it would go off only once they'd all stepped aboard. "Alright then, step on up, keep your arms and legs and bags inside the vehicle at all times and all that noise." He scrambled for his own bags and leapt onto the transporter just before they were engulfed in light only to reappear seconds later among the milling crowds at Starfleet.

"Alright Jim, you're the fearless leader here. Where are we off to?"

"Just stick close and follow me," Jim beamed over his shoulder as he grasped Spock's hand and dragged him along through the throngs of people shouting good byes and questions about shore leave plans. Bones shoved Scotty in front of him, the better to make sure he didn't drop anything and urged him to follow, cursing as he took an errant elbow to the shoulder.

"How ya doing back there?" Scotty called, hefting his bags higher.

"Marvelous, just god damn marvelous. Couldn't be happier in fact."

"Yeah, sounds like it. Ah, just wait til we're outta the crowd, you'll feel better."

"Of course I will," Bones muttered.

* * *

They picked their way through to fresh air and the exceedingly packed parking lot. At the very end, looking distinctly out of place among the newer model vehicles, was Jim's trusty truck, left there for him by his mom. Spock glanced at Jim, and though his expression never shifted, Jim could tell he was surprisingly pleased to see the truck. Even Bones appreciated it, though that was less for the truck itself and more because it was a method of transportation that stayed on the ground.

"A truck, an honest to god, four wheels, engine and all truck. And it's not even my birthday Jim," Bones was positively beaming as he hurled his bags into the bed of it and started securing them with bungee cords. The others followed suit, and after a brief debate on who would sit where, they piled into the cab, Jim driving, Spock next to him and Bones and Scotty in the back seat, though Bones was, unsurprisingly, not thrilled, despite Spock's promise to give him ample leg room.

"Were you planning on telling us where we're going, or is this essentially a kidnapping?" he grumbled.

"Do you feel like you need an adult Bones?" Jim smirked at him from the rearview mirror.

"Considering I'm not likely to find one here…"

"I resent that remark doctor," Spock interjected.

"I agree, I'd say I'm pretty adult," Scotty added, "Y'know, when called upon to be such. Do you need me to be your adult? You need only ask, I'll protect you from the scary, scary captain."

"Shut up Scotty."

"Temper temper doctor. S'not the way to get into my good graces nor make me inclined to share my vacation stash."

Spock rolled his eyes at Jim, silently asking him to break them up before someone committed an act of violence against someone else.

"Alright, alright, I'm on it," Jim glanced over his shoulder at them quickly, shifting lanes as he did so. "Break it up kids, or so help me I'll turn this car around."

"Because that would matter so much, considering where we're going. Oh wait!"

"Jim, please, just tell them where we are going." Jim peeked over at Spock, who was actually slouching, arms crossed over his chest and gazing out the window. He frowned, wondering what could be vexing his Vulcan lover; he nearly took one hand from the wheel to reach for Spock's, to offer comfort as well as try and figure out had him looking so…mopey almost, but he couldn't, not in front of Bones and Scotty. Frowning, brows drawn together, he sighed and put it away to ask Spock about later.

"Well, I had intended this to be almost a surprise. Dunno why I thought that would go over any differently than it has…anyway. So, my mom has friends from when she was in Starfleet that live on the coast. The east coast to be more precise, on the beach. They're going away on a vacation themselves, and mentioned to mom that they were having trouble finding someone to house sit for them. Mom asked when they were going to be gone, realized it was the same time we were on leave, and asked if I wouldn't mind doing it."

"They're ok with us coming along?" Scotty questioned.

"Yeah, mom put me in contact with them, and we went over stuff. I asked if three of my ship mates could join, said they'd be on their best behavior, all that. They were surprisingly enthusiastic, but from what I remember of them, they never had kids of their own, so I think…"

"They see you and us like surrogates," Bones concluded. He shook his head, but couldn't help grinning slightly. He was almost old enough to be Jim's father, he was hardly fit to be thought of as someone's stand-in kid, and the same went for Scotty. If anything, they were the parents in this outfit; with Jim and Spock as the kids…oh that was a great thought there.

"Pretty much. So, that's our leave. A beach house to ourselves, some sun, sand and surf. Maybe a bonfire, some beers, strolling the boardwalk, all those little shops with things made of seashells and sea glass."

"You romantic goof you," Scotty laughed, leaning forward to scuff Jim's hair.

"Watch it! I'm trying to drive," Jim ducked and yelped as the truck wavered, coming dangerously close to going over the line. He got it back on track, but not before someone driving by honked at them and threw a rather rude hand gesture out the window at them, which Jim returned unreservedly.

Quiet fell, for a while, broken only when Bones suddenly sat up, looking disturbed. "Wait a minute, we're driving across the country Jim!"

"Yeah and?"

"That's at least five driving days, if we stop and switch drivers."

"Five huh? Hmmm…"

"Jim…"

Jim chuckled, a positively mischievous sound that sent Bones into a near cold sweat.

"Jim!" More panicked this time.

"Spock, what d'you think the odds are we can do it in three?"

"Oh god."

* * *

Had anyone taken Jim up on his wager, they would have lost, as within three days, they found themselves pulling up the gravel lined driveway of the beach house. A small staircase led them up to a porch that wrapped around the front of the house, then down to a patio backed by the sea wall. Another set of stairs was set right in the sand and to the beach. Jim steered them up to the side door, where the key was tucked under the mat.

"Oh wow…"

Though it sounded cliché in his head, Jim could only think that the inside of the house was almost like looking back in time. Nearly everything was carved from wood, and it was warm, inviting. To the right of the door was the living room, and the far wall was taken up by a large sliding glass door that overlooked the ocean. Jim unconsciously made his way over to watch the surf while the others checked out the house.

"There is a note for you Jim," Spock called, lifting up the folded paper. Jim looked over his shoulder to read, and saw it was a "Thank You" note from his mom's friends, thanking them for looking after the house and telling them the fridge was stocked, and where they could find fresh linens and the like. Under the note was an envelope of money for them to buy food and any other necessities they might need, an amount that made Bones cough and splutter when he saw it, and Scotty have to thump him on the back until he could breathe.

"You know what the really funny thing is?" Jim looked up at the other three, a slow grin spreading across his face. "Here we are, obscene sum of money in our possession, a fully stocked fridge, and all I want is to order a pizza." A beat of silence followed, and then they burst into laughter; even Spock allowed the slightest smirk to turn up the corners of his mouth. "Alright, you guys, go check out bedrooms and stuff, I'm gonna order up a couple pizzas. What toppings should I get?" Of course, that resulted in another ten minutes of back and forth, until it was decided that individual sized pizzas were the way to go, as they each wanted their own toppings, and didn't want to share.

"Would you care for me to stay with you?" Spock asked quietly, while Bones and Scotty boisterously made their way upstairs.

"Nah, you can go upstairs too, pick which room you want for us. I won't be long," Jim clasped Spock's hand, squeezing lightly before letting him grab his bags and follow the other two up to the second floor.

* * *

He passed by the first room, where Scotty and Bones were bickering over who got which bed, attempting to solve it via the rock-paper-scissors. He shook his head and walked by to the next guest room, where he found that, as with the other room, there were two beds, neatly made, rather than one. He cocked his head to the side, wondering just how rude, not to mention presumptuous it might seem were he to push them together into one larger bed. He was not afraid to admit, if only mostly to himself, that he had grown accustomed to sleeping next to Jim, and did not fancy the idea of sleeping alone. He could do it of course, but if he did not have to…

"What're ya thinking about so hard there?" Jim insinuated himself against Spock's back, resting his chin on his shoulder. "The pizzas will be here soon. Can you believe I managed to find a place that actually makes them by hand? No replicators, just real dough and sauce and cheese…"

"I was thinking about the possibility of moving our two beds together, to make one bed."

"Ooohhhh? Interesting. Now why would you be thinking about that?" Jim's tone was teasing; he certainly knew why _he_ would consider pushing the beds together.

"Because I have grown accustomed to sleeping beside you, and if given the option, would prefer to continue to do so while we are on leave. However, we are guests, and I do not wish to appear rude by shifting the furniture simply to suit my own desires. That is why I was only thinking about it as a possibility."

Jim pulled away slightly, shaking his head. If Spock of all people wanted to push the beds together, well, who was he to deny him?

The scraping of the beds across the floor of course was enough to draw out Bones and Scotty, who peered around the door to see what all the noise was about.

"You've got to be kidding. Are you seriously pushing your beds together?"

"Well, Spock's a secret cuddler, and if I even think about denying him that I'll find myself waking up alone on the couch, recovering from pinched nerves in my neck. So yeah, of course I'm pushing the beds together."

Bones rolled his eyes and glanced back at Scotty. "Don't even think about it."

"Oh c'mon doc, I'll bet I'm even cuddlier than a Vulcan."

"I don't care; you stay on your side of the room, and keep your hands to yourself."

"Ahh, you'll come round, they always do." Scotty ambled further into the bedroom, leaning back against the low set of drawers. "Need a hand?" he offered, watching Jim and Spock struggle to re-fit the sheets on the beds with an amused grin on his face.

"I think we…no, that won't…we got it, maybe," Jim snapped the top sheet up and out, letting it fall back lengthwise across the mattresses. Spock did the same with the other sheet, overlaying it slightly over the first, so it was almost like one large sheet. "Yeah, this should work." He stepped back to survey their handiwork, and an idea struck him. He glanced at Scotty, who raised an eyebrow at the wicked grin on his face.

"That is a look that doesn't bode well Jim."

"Weelll, not exactly no. I was just thinking; I wonder if Bones would notice if every day, you just subtly moved your bed the tiniest bit closer to his?"

"You're an evil man Jim Kirk, I should be ashamed to even think of taking you up on that idea."

"You're gonna do it, aren't you?"

"Bet your arse." Scotty looked over to Spock, who had been watching them but had yet to say anything. "And what's your thoughts on the matter?"

Spock blinked, and shifted his focus to Scotty, mildly surprised that he was asking his opinion. "Are you asking me if I think you should take Jim up on his challenge or not?" Scotty nodded, grinning widely. Spock paused, considering. "I will neither stop nor encourage you from doing such. Nor will I actively tell the doctor what you are attempting. I believe that gives me plausible deniability?"

"Something like that," Scotty chortled. "Now, pizza?"

* * *

The days passed just as Jim had promised, filled with most of the days spent in the ocean playing in the surf, or else turning steadily more tan, lounging on the porch in the sun (after Bones made them slather themselves in sunblock), taking trips to the shops when needed. Spock surprised Jim by not hesitating to join them in the ocean every day; while he had taken to it at the lake back home, he hadn't been certain that the lessons and desire to swim had stuck. However, even if it was only for a little while, Spock could be seen lunging forward with the waves, riding them nearly to the shore, his hair slicked back. More often than not, he'd catch Jim's eye, and the corner of his lips would turn up ever so slightly. Jim would laugh, and yelp as Scotty would catch him ogling and hurl a bundle of seaweed at the back of his neck. They spent each night pulled up around the fire pit, enjoying the quiet they so rarely got aboard the Enterprise, minus the odd bickering from Bones and Scotty, who had shortly been found out regarding the moving his bed idea. Jim did his best to force s'mores on Spock, having learned that chocolate had the similar effect of alcohol on Vulcans and wanting to get him tipsy. On occasion, Spock would humor him, and sample one s'more, enjoying the warmth that spread to the tips of his fingers with each gooey bite.

As the date of their departure grew nearer, the weather took a turn, seeming to reflect their dampened moods at the prospect of leave ending. Clouds the color of an old bruise roiled in the sky, lighting up and rumbling over the water. Finally, it broke the day before they were to leave, and rain pelted the windows while the wind churned the ocean into frothy waves that lapped at the sea wall.

"Jim, c'mon, we're supposed to be cleaning up, quit staring out the window. It's a storm, you've seen those before haven't you?"

"Yeah, but, not one like this…" Jim's voice was soft and awestruck as he watched the ocean illuminated by a particularly violent burst of lightning.

"Oh for…fine, go play in the storm, don't come crying to me when you get flambéed, or washed away," Bones warned, setting aside his bags that he'd been attempting to re-pack. He knew a lost cause when he saw one; Jim was utterly enthralled in the storm, for reasons he couldn't even begin to decipher.

Jim laughed, and not even bother with a jacket, or even socks and shoes, went for the door. He looked back over his shoulder at Spock. Their eyes locked, and a ripple of understanding passed between them; a promise of a storm made and kept. "You coming?" He held out his hand. Spock hesitated a moment, before sliding his hand into Jim's, threading their fingers together, enjoying the rush of warmth that followed the contact.

The door banged shut behind them as Jim pulled Spock out into the wild weather, and Spock willingly followed him.

_A/N: What a long (very long) trip it's been. I thank those of you who stuck with me these…good lord, four years of writing. I'm sorry again that I was all over the place with writing, it's a habit I'm trying to break. For anyone that's interested, I'm going to be posting this also on Archive of Our Own, as well as some new stuff I'm gonna work on soon. If you want to, check out my profile for my name over there. _


End file.
